P.  WILDCR 


E«SITY  OF 

.ftOMNIA 

4  DIEGO       J 


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AT 


The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Street 


THE   SUNNY   SIDE 
OF    THE    STREET 


BY 
MARSHALL  P.  WILDER 

s/ 

Author  of  "  People  I've  Smiled  With  " 


WITH  TEXT  ILLUSTRATIONS  BY  BART  HALEY 

AND  COVER  DECORATION  EY 

CHARLES  GRAHAM 


FUNK     &     WAGNALLS     COMPANY 

NEW    YORK   AND   LONDON 

1905 


Copyright,  1905,  by 
FUNK   &   WAGNALLS   COMPANY 

[Printed  in  the  United  States  of  Americd\ 


Published,  June,  1905 


Affectionately  Dedicated 

To 
My  Father 


PREFACE 

IN  this  little  volume  are  offered  recollections 
of  the  sunny  side  of  many  people.  I  have 
plucked  blossoms  from  the  gardens  of  humor  and 
pathos,  which  lie  side  by  side,  and  in  weaving 
them  into  a  garland,  claim  only  as  my  own  the 
string  that  binds  them  together. 


CONTENTS 


I.     SUNSHINE  AND  FUN       -  -        •      23 

The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Street. — Jests  and  Jest 
ers. — The  Force  of  a  Joke. — Lincoln's  Way. — 
Kings  and  Their  Joke-makers. — As  They  do 
It  in  Persia  and  Ireland. — "  Chestnuts." — Few 
Modern  Jesters  but  no  End  of  Jokers. — Enter 
tainers  and  Their  Ways. 

II.  SUNNY  MEN  OF  SERIOUS  PRESENCE  •  31 
Richard  Croker. — A  Good  Fellow  and  Not 
Hard  to  Approach,  if  One  is  not  in  Politics. — 
Croker  as  a  Haymaker. — Does  not  Keep 
Opinions  on  Tap. — He  and  Chauncey  Depew 
on  New  York  City  Politics. — Croker  Bewilders 
a  London  Salesman. — His  Greatest  Pride. — 
Recorder  Goff. — Not  as  Severe  as  His  Acts. — 
Justice  Tempered  With  Mercy. — Two  Puzzling 
Cases. 

III.  AT  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  AND  NEAR  IT      -      41 

My  Prophecy  to  "  Major  "  McKinley. — President 
McKinley  Becomes  "  One  of  the  Boys  "  of  My 
Audience;  His  Attention  to  His  Wife. — How 
He  Won  a  Vermont  City. — A  Story  of  the 
Spanish  War. — My  First  Meeting  with  Presi 
dent  Harrison. — A  Second  and  More  Pleasing 
One. — A  Chance  Which  I  Gladly  Lost. — Some 
of  President  Harrison's  Stories. — I  Led  a  Pa 
rade  Given  in  His  Honor. — Vice-Presidents 
Morton  and  Hobart. 

IV.  STORY-TELLING  AS  AN  ART    -  57 

Different  Ways  of  Story-Telling.— The  Slow 
Story-Teller. — Lincoln's  Stories. — Bad  Telling 

9 


CONTENTS 

of  Good  Stories.— The  Right  Way  to  Tell  a 
Story. — The  Humorous,  the  Comic  and  the 
Witty  Story. — Artemus  Ward,  Robert  J.  Bur- 
dette  and  Mark  Twain  as  Story-Tellers. 

V.     ACTORS'  JOKES      -  -      68 

All  of  Them  Full  of  Humor  at  All  Times.— 
"  Joe  "  Jefferson. — J.  K.  Emmett. — Fay  Tem- 
pleton. — Willie  Collier. — An  Actor's  Portrait 
on  a  Church  Wall. — "  Gus  "  Thomas,  the  Play 
wright.  —  Stuart  Robson.  —  Henry  Dixey.  — 
Evans  and  Hoey. — Charles  Hoyt.  —  Wilson 
Barrett. — W.  S.  Gilbert — Henry  Irving. 

VI.     A  SUNNY  OLD  CITY       -  -      81 

Some  Aspects  of  Philadelphia. — Fun  in  a  Hos 
pital. — "  The  Cripple's  Palace." — An  Invalid's 
Success  in  Making  Other  Invalids  Laugh. — 
Fights  for  the  Fun  of  Fighting. — My  Rival 
Friends.— Boys  Will  Be  Boys. — Cast  Out  of 
Church.  —  A  Startling  Recognition.  —  Some 
Pleasures  of  Attending  Funerals. — How  I 
Claimed  the  Protection  of  the  American  Flag. 

VII.     MY  FIRST  TRIP  TO  LONDON   -  -      93 

Large  Hopes  vs.  Small  Means. — At  the  Savage 
Club. — My  First  Engagement. — Within  an 
Ace  of  Losing  It. — Alone  in  a  Crowd. — A 
Friendly  Face  to  the  Rescue. — The  New  York 
Welcome  to  a  Fine  Fellow. — One  English  Way 
With  Jokes. — People  Who  are  Slow  to  Laugh. 
— Disturbing  Elements. — Cold  Audiences. — 
Following  a  Suicide. 

VIII.     EXPERIENCES  IN  LONDON       -  -     108 

Customs  and  Climate  Very  Unlike  Our  Own. — 
No  Laughter  in  Restaurants. — Clever  Cabbies. 
— Oddities  in  Fire-Fighting. — The  "  Rogue's 
Gallery."  —  In  Scotland  Yard. — "Petticoat 
Lane." — A  Cemetery  for  Pet  Dogs. — "  Dogs 
Who  Are  Characters." — The  Professional  Toast- 
Master. —  Solemn  After-dinner  Speakers. — An 
Autograph  Table  cloth. — American  Brides  of 
English  Husbands. 

10 


CONTENTS 

IX.     "  LUCK  "  IN  STORY-TELLING  -     121 

The  Real  Difference  Between  Good  Luck  and 
Bad. — Good  Luck  with  Stories  Presupposes  a 
Well-stored  Memory. — Men  Who  Always  Have 
the  Right  Story  Ready. — Mr.  Depew. — Band 
master  Sousa's  Darky  Stories. — John  Wana- 
maker's  Sunday-School  Stories.  —  General 
Horace  Porter's  Tales  That  go  to  the  Spot— 
The  Difference  Between  Parliament  and  Con 
gress. 

X.     JOURNALISTS  AND  AUTHORS    -  -     133 

Not  all  Journalists  are  Critics,  Nor  are  all 
Critics  Fault-finders.  —  The  Most  Savage 
Newspapers  not  the  Most  Influential. — The  Crit 
ic's  Duty. — Horace  Greeley. — Mark  Twain's 
First  Earnings. — A  Great  Publisher  Approached 
by  Green  Goods  Men. — Henry  Watterson. — 
Opie  Reid.— Quimby  of  the  "  Free  Press." — 
Laurence  Hutton,  Edwin  Booth  and  I  in 
Danger  Together. 

XI.     THE  UNEXPECTED  -     146 

Robert  Hilliard  and  I  and  a  Dog. — Hartford's 
Actors  and  Playwrights. — A  Fit  that  Caused  a 
Misfit. — A  Large  Price  to  Hear  a  Small  Man. 
— Jim  Corbett  and  I. — A  Startled  Audience. — 
Captain  Williams  and  "  Red  "  Leary. — "  Joe  " 
Choate  to  the  Rescue. — Bait  for  a  Dude. — 
Deadheads. — Within  an  Inch  of  Davy  Jones. — 
Perugini  and  Four  Fair  Adorers. — Scanlon  and 
Kernell. 

XII.     SUNSHINE  IN  SHADY  PLACES  -  -     164 

On  BlackwelPs  Island.— Snakes  and  Snake 
Charmers. — Insane  People  as  Audiences.— A 
Poorhouse  That  was  a  Large  House. — I  am 
Well  Known  by  Another  Profession. — Crim 
inals  are  Not  Fools.— Some  Pathetic  Experi 
ences. — The  Largest  Fee  I  Ever  Received. 

XIII.     "  BUFFALO  BILL  "  -     177 

He  Works  Hard  But  Jokes  Harder. — He  and 
I  Stir  Up  a  Section  of  Paris. — In  Peril  of  a 

11 


CONTENTS 

Mob. — My  Indian  Friends  in  the  Wild  West 
Company. — Bartholdi  and  Cody. — English  Be 
wilderment  Over  the  "  Wild  West  "  People. — 
Major  "  Jack "  Burke. — Cody  as  a  Stage 
Driver. — Some  of  His  Western  Stories. — When 
He  Had  the  Laugh  on  Me. 

XIV.     THE  ART  OF  ENTERTAINING  -  -     190 

Not  as  Easy  as  It  Would  Seem. — Scarcity  of 
Good  Stories  for  the  Purpose. — Drawing-room 
Audiences  are  Fastidious. — Noted  London 
Entertainers. — They  are  Guests  of  the  People 
Who  Engage  Them. — London  Methods  and 
Fees. — Blunders  of  a  Newly-wed  Hostess  from 
America. — Humor  Displaces  Sentiment  in  the 
Drawing-room. — My  Own  Material  and  Its 
Sources. 

XV.  IN  THE  SUNSHINE  WITH  GREAT  PREACHERS  1 99 
I  am  Nicknamed  "  The  Theological  Com 
edian." — My  Friend,  Henry  Ward  Beecher. — 
Our  Trip  Through  Scotland  and  Ireland. — His 
Quickness  of  Repartee. — He  and  Ingersoll  Ex 
change  Words. — Ingersoll's  Own  Sunshine. — 
DeWitt  Talmage  on  the  Point  of  View. — He 
Could  Even  Laugh  at  Caricatures  of  His  Own 
Face. — Dr.  Parkhurst  on  Strict  Denomina- 
tionalism. 

XVI.  THE    PRINCE    OF    WALES,    Now    KING 

EDWARD  VII    -  -211 

The  Most  Popular  Sovereign  in  Europe. — How 
He  Saved  Me  From  a  Master  of  Ceremonies. — 
Promotion  by  Name. — He  and  His  Friends 
Delight  Two  American  Girls. — His  Sons  and 
Daughters. — An  Attentive  and  Loving  Father. 
— Untiring  at  His  Many  Duties. — Before  He 
Ascended  the  Throne. — Unobtrusive  Politic 
ally,  Yet  Influential. 

XVII.  SIR  HENRY  IRVING  -    222 

A  Model  of  Courtesy  and  Kindness. — An  Early 
Friend  Surprised  by  the  Nature  of  His  Recog- 

12 


CONTENTS 

nition. — His  Tender  Regard  for  Members  of 
His  Company. — Hamlet's  Ghost  Forgets  His 
Cue. — Quick  to  Aid  the  Needy. — Two  Luck 
Boys. — Irving  as  a  Joker. — The  Story  He 
Never  Told  Me. — Generous  Offer  to  a  Brother 
Actor-manager. — Why  He  is  Not  Rich. 

XVIII.  LONDON  THEATRES  AND  THEATRE-GOERS  236 
Why  English  and  American  Plays  Do  Best  at 
Home. — The  Intelligent  Londoner  Takes  the 
Theatre  Seriously. — Play-going  as  a  Duty. — 
The  High-class  English  Theatre  a  Costly  Lux 
ury. — American  Comedies  too  Rapid  of  Action 
to  Please  the  English. — Bronson  Howard's 
"  Henrietta,"  not  Understood  in  London. — The 
Late  Clement  Scott's  Influence  and  Person 
ality. 

XIX.     TACT    -  247 

An  Important  Factor  of  Success. — Better  Than 
Diplomacy.— Some  Noted  Possessors  of  Tact. — 
James  G.  Elaine. — King  Edward  VII. — Queen 
Alexandra.  —  Henry  Ward  Beecher.  —  Mme. 
Patti. — Mrs.  Ronalds. — Mrs.  Cleveland. — Mrs. 

Langtry Colonel    Ingersoll. — Mrs.   Kendall. 

General  Sherman. — Chauncey  M.  Depew. — 
Mrs.  James  Brown  Potter. — Mme.  Nordica. 

XX.     ADELINA  PATTI     -  -     263 

Her  Home  in  Wales.— Some  of  Her  Pets.— An 
Ocean  Voyage  With  Her. — The  Local  Recep 
tion  at  Her  Home-coming. — Mistress  of  an 
Emormous  Castle  and  a  Great  Retinue  of 
Servants. — Her  Winter  Garden  and  Private 
Theatre. — A  Most  Hospitable  and  Charming 
Hostess. — Her  Local  Charities  are  Continuous 
and  Many. 

XXI.     SOME  NOTABLE  PEOPLE  -  278 

Cornelius  Vanderbilt. — Mrs.  Mackey. — The 
Rockefellers. — Jay  Gould. — George  Gould  and 

13 


CONTEXTS 


Mary  Anderson.  —  Mrs. 
Fiske.  —  Augustin  Daly. 
Cheiro. 


Minnie     Maddern 
—  Nicola    Tesla. — 


XXII.     HUMAN  NATURE   -        .  -     292 

Magnetism  and  Its  Elements. — Every  One 
Carries  the  Marks  of  His  Trade. — How  Men 
Are  "  Sized  Up "  at  Hotels. — Facial  Resem 
blance  of  Some  People  to  Animals. — What  the 
Eye  First  Catches. — When  Faces  Are  Masked. 
— Bathing  in  Japan. — The  Conventions  of 
Every  Day  Life  That  Hide  Us  From  Our 
Fellows.  —  Genuineness  is  the  One  Thing 
Needful. 

XXIII.  SUNNY  STAGE  PEOPLE    -  -    302 

"Joe"  Jefferson.— I  Take  His  Life.— His 
Absent-Mindedness.  —  Jefferson  and  General 
Grant. — Nat  Goodwin,  and  How  He  Helped 
Me  Make  Trouble. — Our  Bicycling  Mishap. — 
Goodwin  Pours  Oil  on  Troubled  Dramatic 
Waters  Abroad.  —  George  Leslie.  —  Wilton 
Lackaye. — Burr  Mclntosh. — Miss  Ada  Rehan, 

XXIV.  SUNSHINE  is  IN  DEMAND  •  313 

Laughter  Wanted  Everywhere. — Dismal  Ef 
forts  at  Fun.— English  Humor.— The  Differ 
ence  Between  Humor  and  Wit. — Composite 
Merriment.  —Carefully  Studied  "  Impromptus." 
— National  Types  of  Humor. — Some  Queer 
Substitutes  for  the  Real  Article. — Humor  is 
Sometimes  "  Knocked  Out,"  Yet  Mirth  is  Medi 
cine  and  Laughter  Lengthens  Life. 

XXV.     «BILL"NYE        -  -    321 

A  Humorist  of  the  Best  Sort. — Not  True  to  His 
Own  Description  of  Himself. — Everybody's 
Friend. — His  Dog  "  Entomologist "  and  the 
Dog's  Companions. — A  Man  With  the  Right 
Word  for  Every  Occasion. — His  Pen-name  was 
His  Own. — Often  Mistaken  for  a  Distinguished 
Clergyman. — Killed  by  a  Published  Falsehood. 

14 


CONTENTS 
XXVI.     SOME  SUNNY  SOLDIERS  -     330 

General  Sherman. — His  Dramatic  Story  of  a 
Try  sting-place. — The  Battle  of  Shiloh  Fought 
Anew. — Sherman  and  Barney  Williams. — 
General  Russell  A.  Alger  on  War. — General 
Lew  Wallace. — The  Room  in  Which  He 
Wrote  "  Ben  Hur." — His  Donkey  Story. — 
General  Nelson  A.  Miles  and  Some  of  His 
Funny  Stories. — A  Father  Who  Wished  He 
Had  Been  a  Priest. 

XXVII.     SOME  FIRST  EXPERIENCES      -  -    348 

When  I  was  a  Boy. — One  Christmas  Frolic. 
— How  I  Got  on  One  Theatre's  Free  List. — 
My  First  Experience  as  a  Manager. — Strange 
Sequel  of  a  Modest  Business  Effort. — My  First 
Cigar  and  How  It  Undid  Me.— The  Only 
"  Drink  "  I  Ever  Took. — My  First  Horse  in  . 
Central  Park. — I  Volunteer  as  a  Fifer  in 
School  Band,  with  Sad  Results  to  All  Con 
cerned. 


c 


15 


The  People,  Stories  About  Whom  Appear 
in  "The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Street" 


ABBEY,  HENRY  E.,  99 
Abbot     Sisters     (Bessie    and 

Jessie),  215,  216 
Albert  Victor,  Prince,  217 
Alexandra,  Queen,  221-249 
Alger,    Gen.    Russell  A.,   42, 

339 

Allen,  Heron-,  289 
Allen,  Viola,  303 
Anderson,  Col.,  336 
Anderson,  Mary,  Miss,  282 
Arkell,  W.  J.,  47,  100 

BANCROFT,  SIR  SQUIRE,  310 
Bangs,  Frank,  303 
Barrett,  Lawrence,  73 
Barrett,  Millie,  74 
Barrett,  Wilson,  78,  98,  261 
Barryraore,  Maurice,  153 
Bartholdi,  182 
Battenberg,  Prince  Henry  of, 

273 

Baumeister,  Caroline,  271 
Beecher,     Henry    Ward,    46, 

199,  201,  202,  250 
Bell,  Digby,  163 
Bellew,  Kyrle,  158 
Bingham  (Ventriloquist),  149 


Elaine,  James  G.,  248,  257 
Bliss,  Cornelius  N.,  42 
Booth,  Edwin,  143 
Bowers,  Arthur,  100 
Brock  way,  Supt.  (Elraira),  167 
"Bronco  Bill,"  182 
Brough,  Lionel,  222 
Buntliue,  Ned,  177 
Burdette,  Robert  J.,  62 
Burgess,  Neil,  148 
Burke,  Major  John,  186 
Burnand,  F.  C.,  118 
Busbey,  Georgia,  73 
Byron,  Oliver  Dowd,  Mr.  and 
Mrs.,  148 


CAMERON,  Goy. ,  251 
Carlyle,  Francis,  147 
Carr,  Comyns,  310 
Carte,  D'Oyley,  191 
Chanfrau,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Frank, 

148 
"Cheiro"     (Louis    Warner), 

288-291 

Childs,  Geo.  W..  99 
Choate,  Joseph  H.,  151 
Clarke,  J.  I.  C.t  99 


17 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 


Cleveland,      Mr.     and     Mrs. 

Grover,    46,    69,    254,    255, 

295 

Coates,  Foster,  99 
Cockerill,  John  A.,  331 
Cody,  Kit  Carson,  177 
Cody,  Col.  Wm.  J.  ("  Buffalo 

Bill"),  100,  177,   178,  179, 

180,  181,  186,  187,  188,  189 
Collier,  Wm.  ("Willie"),  71 
Corbett,  James  J.,  150 
Croker,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Richard, 

31,  32,  33,  34,  35,  36 
Croly,  Mrs.,  284 


DAILEY,  PETE,  69 
Dale,  Musical,  147 
Daly,  Augustin,  99,  285 
Davis,  Richard  Harding,  260 
Depew,  Chauucey  M.,  34,  99, 

122,  123,  124,  125,  126,  137, 

196,  214,  260,  290 
Devonshire,  Duke  of,  214 
Dewey,  Gott,  84,  86,  88 
Dickens,  Charles,  118 
Dillingham,  C.  B.,  147 
Dix,  Rev.  Morgan,  326 
Dixey,  Henry  E.,  75 
Dockstader,  Lew,  147 
Dodson,  J.  E.,  225 
Doubleday,  Frank  N.,  140 
Dougherty,  Daniel,  99 
Drew,  John,  303 
Dunham,  Geo.,  303 
Du  Val,  Harry,  99 


EAMES,  EMMA,  MME.,  147 
Edward  the  Seventh  (King), 

211-221,  249 
Emmet,  J.  K.,  69 
Evans,  Charles,  76,  77 
Evarts,  Wm.  M.,  295 


18 


FAWCETT,  GEOKGE,  155 
Fiske,  Harrison  Grey,  100 
"Flat  Iron,"  182,  183,  184 
Florence,  W.  J.,  100,  303 
Frohmau,  Charles,  155 
Frohman,  Daniel,  99 
Fuller,  Loie,  288 


GEARY  (P.  M.  GEN.),  ME. 

AND  MBS.,  42 
George,  Prince,  217 
Gilbert,  W.  S.,  78,  79,  118 
Gildersleeve,  Judge,  189 
Gillette,  Wm.,  147 
Glenny,  Charles,  79 
Goff,  Recorder,  36,  37,  38,  39, 

40 

Goodwin,  Nat,  156,  199,  307 
Gould,  Edith  Kingdon,  282 
Gould,  George.  281,  282 
Gould,  Jay,  280 
Grain,  Corney,  191 
Grant,  Gen.  Fred.,  336 
Grant,  Mayor  Hugh,  99 
Grant,  Gen.  U.  S.,  32,  330 
Greeley,  Horace,  137 
Griffin,  Mrs.,  283 
Grossmith,  Geo.,  191 
Gunn,  Michael,  283 


HALFORD,  LEIGE,  46,  47 
Handy,  Moses  P..  100,  286 
Harris,  Sir  August,  245,  310 
Harrison,  Benj.  F.,  46,  47,  48, 

49,  50,  51,  52 
Harrison,  Russell,  46,  48 
Hatton,  Joseph,  100 
Billiard,  Robert,  146 
Hobart,  Garrett  A.,  42,  54 
Hoey,  Bill  ( "  Old  Hoss  "),  76, 

77 

Howard,  Bronson,  239 
Howard,  Jos.,  Jr.,  100 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STREET 


Howe,  "Daddy,"  224 
Hoyt,  Charles,  78 
Mutton,  Laurence,  143 


INGERSOLL,  COL.  ROBT.  G., 
99,  202,  203,  204,  205,  206, 
257,  319 

Irving,  Sir  Henry,  98,  222- 
235,  290 


JEFFERSON,  CHARLES,  303 
Jefferson,  Jos.,  69,  303,  304, 

305,  306 

Jefferson,  Jos.,  Jr.,  303 
Jefferson,  Thomas,  303 
Jefferson,  Willie,  303 
Jones,  Henry  Arthur,  310 
Jones,  Senator  of  Nevada,  154, 

348 


KEITH,  B.  F.,  212 
Kendal,  Mrs.,  225,  252,  257 
Kendall,  Ezra,  59,  60 
Kennett,  Luther  M.,  337 
Kent,  Chas.,  285 
Kernell,  Harry,  159,  161 


Lombard,  Elsie  C.  (Mrs.  John 

T.  Brush),  303 
Lord,  Chester  A.,  99 
Loring,  D.  A.,  42 
Louise,  Princess  of  Teck,  217 
Lucy,  Henry  W.,  117 


MACKAYE,  STEELE,  189,  206 
Mackey,  Mrs.,  279,  311 
Maddern,  Minnie  (Mrs.  Fiske), 

284 

Mannering,  Billy,  156 
Mansfield,  Richard,  79,  231 
"Mark  Twain,"  64,  65,  66, 

67,  138,  147,  148,  316 
Matthews,  Father,  337 
Maude,  Princess,  217 
McAllister,  Ward,  196 
Mclntosh,  Burr,  311 
Mclntyre,  227 
McKelway,  St.  Clair,  99 
McKiuley,  Abner,  44 
McKinley,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wm., 

41,  42,  43,  44,  45 
Meade,  "Tom,"  226 
Merrill,  Bradford,  99 
Miles,  Gen.  Nelson  A.,  344 
Mitchell,  Maggie,  Miss,  148 
Morton,  Levi  P.,  55 


LACKAYE,  WILTON,  153 
Langtry,  Mrs.,  255,  256 
Lawton,  Frank,  147 
Leary,  "Red,"  151 
Lee,  Gen  Fitzhugh.  251 
Lee,  Gen.  Robt.  E.,  251 
Leslie,  Mrs.  Frank  (Baroness 

de  Bazus),  252 
Leslie,  George,  311 
Levy,  Jefferson,  34 
Lewis,  Marshall,  73 
Lincoln,  Abraham,  25,  57 


NlCOLINI,  SlGNOR,  264 

Nordica,  Madame,  262 
Nye,  Wm.  Edgar  (Bill),  100, 
321 


OCHILTBEE,     COL.    THOS.   P., 
100,  354 


PAGET,  LADY,  261 
Palmer,  A.  M.,  99 


19 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 


Parkhurst,   Rev.    Charles  H., 

208,  295 

Parry,  John,  191 
Patti,  Adelina,  41,  252,  263 
Paulding,  Fred'k,  303 
Perugini    (John    Chatterton), 

157 

Petitt,  Harry,  310 
Philip,  Captain,  45 
Philip,  Mr.,  44,  45 
Pi tou,  Augustus,  156 
Pouisi,  Madame,  303 
Porter,  Gen.  Horace,  130 
Potter,  Mrs.  Brown,  261 
Pryor,  Roger  A.,  295 


Shah  of  Persia,  249 
Sherman,  Gen.  W.  T.,  69,  99, 

259,  260,  330 
Shine,  J.  L.,  240 
Sims,  George  R.,  245 
Skiniier,  Otis,  147,  303 
Smith,  Ex-Go v.,  251 
Smyth,  Recorder,  295 
Snyder,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Mat., 

148,  149,  152 
Sothern,  Sam,  100 
Sousa,  John  Philip,  126 
Stevens,  Mrs  Parau,  261 
Stoddart,  J.  M.,  99 
Sutherland,  Duke  of,  112 


QUIMBY,  W.  E  ,  142 


"RED  SHIRT,"  182, 183 

Rehan,  Ada,  312 

Reid,  Opie,  141 

Reid,  Whitelaw,  99 

Riley,    Jas.  Whitcomb,    139, 

159 

Robertson,  Forbes,  79 
Robson,  Stuart,  73 
Rockefeller,  John  D.,  279 
Rogers,  Claude,  Miss,  162 
Rogers,  Cynthia,  Miss,  160 
Ronalds,  Mrs.,  252,  262 
Rosser,  Gen.,  251 
Rothschild,  Baron  de,  192 
Russell,  Lillian,  292 


TALMAGE,  REV.  T.  DE  WITT, 

207 
Teck,  Duke  and  Duchess  of, 

217 

Teck,  Princess  Mary  of,  194 
Templeton,  Fay,  70,  292 
Tesla,  Dr.  Nicola,  286 
Thomas,  Augustus,  72 
Thomas,  Brandon,  245 
Toole,  J.  L.,  214 
Tree>  Beerbohm,  117 

VANDERBILT,  CORNELIUS 

HARRY,  164,  278 
Vassar,    Queen ie   (Mrs.    Ker- 

nell),  162 

Vaughn,  Theresa,  Miss,  148 
Victoria,  Princess,  217 


SAGE,  RUSSELL,  290 
Salsbury,  Nate,  185 
Sanger,  Frank,  99 
Saunders,  Lucille  Marie,  147 
Scanlon,  W.  J.,  159 
Scott,  Clement,  240,  241,  242, 

243,  244,  245,  246 
Scott,  Margaret  Clement,  244 


WALLACE,  LEW,  334,  342 
Wanamaker,    John,    92,    128, 

129 

Ward,  Artemus,  63 
Washburn,  U.  S.  Minister,  337 
Watterson,  Henry,  100,  141 
Webb,  Jas.  Watson,  337 
Wilcox,  Ella  Wheeler,  315 


20 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STREET 

Willard,  E.   &,  79,   99,   100,  Woodruff,  Harry,  147 

233  Wyndham,  Charles,  307 

Williams,    Capt.    Alexander, 
151 

Williams,  "Barney,"  337  YOUNG,  JAMES,  JR.,  151 

Wintersmith,  Col.  Dick,  141  Young,  John  Russell,  100 


21 


SUNSHINE  AND  FUN 

The  Sunny  Side  of  the  Street. — Jests  and  Jesters. — The  Force 
of  a  Joke. — Lincoln's  Way. — Kings  and  Their  Joke- 
Makers. — As  they  do  it  in  Persia  and  Ireland. — "Chest 
nuts." — Few  Modern  Jesters  but  no  End  of  Jokers. — En 
tertainers  and  Their  Ways. 

ILIYE  on  the  sunny  side  of  the  street;  shady 
folks  live  on  the  other.     I  always  preferred 
the  sunshine,  and  have  tried  to  put  other 
people  there,  if  only  for  an  hour  or  two  at  a  time, 
even  if  I  had  to  do  it  after  sunset  from  a  plat 
form  under  the  gaslight,  with  my  name  billed  at 
the  door  as  entertainer. 

As  birds  of  a  feather  flock  together,  it  has 
been  my  good  fortune  to  meet  thousands  of  other 
people  on  the  sunny  side  of  the  street.  In  this 
volume  I  shall  endeavor  to  distribute  some  of  the 
sunshine  which  these  fine  fellows  unloaded  on 
me. 

23 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

Nature  has  put  up  many  effective  brands  of 
concentrated  sunshine  in  small  packages;  but  the 
best  of  these,  according  to  all  men  of  all  countries, 
is  the  merry  jest.  As  far  back  as  history  goes 
you  will  find  the  jest,  also  the  jester.  The  latter 
was  so  important  that  kings  could  not  get  along 
without  him.  Some  kings  more  powerful  than 
any  European  sovereign  is  to-day  are  remembered 
now  only  by  what  their  jesters  said. 

All  these  jesters  are  said  to  have  been  little 
people.  I  am  doubly  qualified  to  claim  relation 
ship  with  them,  for  I  am  only  three  and  a  half 
feet  high,  and  I  have  been  jester  to  millions  of 
sovereigns — that  is,  to  millions  of  the  sovereign 
American  people,  as  well  as  to  some  foreign 
royalties. 

The  reason  for  little  people  taking  naturally  to 
sunshine  and  good-natured  joking  is  not  hard  to 
find,  for  it  is  a  simple  case  of  Hobson's  choice. 
It  is  easier  to  knock  a  man  out  with  a  joke  than 
with  a  fist-blow,  especially  if  you  haven't  much 
height  and  weight  behind  your  fist.  It  is  the 
better  way,  too,  for  the  joke  doesn't  hurt.  In 
stead  of  the  other  man's  going  in  search  of  an 
arnica  bottle  or  a  pistol  or  a  policeman,  he  gen 
erally  hangs  about  with  the  hope  of  getting  an 
other  blow  of  the  same  sort.  One  needn't  be 
little  to  try  it.  Abraham  Lincoln  had  a  fist  al 
most  as  big  as  the  hand  of  Providence,  and  as 
24 


SUNSHINE  AND  FUN 

long  a  reach  as  John  L.  Sullivan,  but  he  always 
used  a  joke  instead,  so  men  who  came  to  growl 
remained  to  laugh.  I'm  not  concerned  about  the 
size  of  my  own  hand,  for  it  has  been  big  enough 
to  get  and  keep  everything  that  belonged  to  me. 
As  to  reach,  as  long  as  my  jests  reach  their  mark 


It  is  a  Simple  Case  of  Hobson's  Choice. 

I  shan't  take  the  trouble  to  measure  arms  with 
any  one. 

There's  always  something  in  a  jest — for  the 
man  who  hears  it.  How  about  the  jester  ?  Well, 
he  is  easily  satisfied.  Most  men  want  the  earth, 
so  they  get  the  bad  as  well  as  the  good,  but  the 
best  that  the  world  affords  is  good  enough  for  the 
jester,  so  I  shan't  try  to  break  th*e  record.  It  is 

25 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

often  said  that  the  jester  swims  near  the  top. 
Why  shouldn't  he?  Isn't  that  where  the  cream 
is  ?  And  isn't  he  generous  enough  to  leave  the 
skimmed  milk  for  the  chaps  dismal  enough  to 
prefer  to  swim  at  the  bottom  ? 

I  am  often  moved  to  pride  when  I  realize  how 
ancient  is  my  craft.  Adam  did  not  have  a  jester ; 
but  he  did  not  need  one,  for  he  was  the  only  man 
— except  you  and  I — who  married  the  only 
woman  in  the  world.  Neither  did  old  Noah  have 
or  need  one,  for  he  had  the  laugh  on  everybody 
else  when  the  floods  fell  and  he  found  himself  in 
out  of  the  rain.  But  as  soon  as  the  world  dried 
out  and  got  full  enough  of  people  to  set  up  kings 
in  business,  the  jester  appears  in  history,  and  the 
nations  without  jesters  to  keep  kings'  minds  in 
good-working  order  dropped  out  of  the  procession. 
The  only  one  of  them  that  survives  is  Persia, 
where  John  the  Jester  is,  as  he  always  was,  in 
high  favor  at  court.  When  trouble  is  in  the  air 
he  merely  winks  at  the  Shah  and  gets  off :  "  Oh, 
Pshaw ! "  or  some  other  Ion  mot  old  enough  to 
be  sweet ;  then  the  monarch  doubles  up  and 
laughs  the  frown  from  his  face,  and  the  heads 
man  sheathes  his  sword  and  takes  a  day  off. 

Speaking  of  old  saws  that  are  always  welcome 
reminds  me  to  protest  against  the  unthinking 
persons  who  cry  "  Chestnut !  "  against  every  joke 
that  is  not  newly  coined.  In  one  way  it  is  a 

26 


SUNSHINE  AND  FUN 

compliment,  for  the  chestnut  is  the  sweetest  nut 
that  grows ;  but  it  does  not  reach  perfection  un 
til  it  has  had  many  soakings  and  frosts,  and  has 
been  kicked  about  under  the  dead  leaves  so  many 
times  that  if  it  was  anything  except  a  chestnut  it 
would  have  been  lost.  Good  stories  are  like  good 
principles :  the  older  they  are,  the  stronger  their 
pull. 

There  is  not  a  more  popular  tale  in  the  world 
than  that  of  Cinderella.  It  is  so  good  that 
nations  have  almost  fought  for  the  honor  of 
originating  it.  Yet  a  few  years  ago  some  anti 
quarians  dug  some  inscribed  clay  tablets  from  the 
ruins  of  an  Asiatic  city  that  was  centuries  old 
when  Noah  was  a  boy.  Some  sharps  at  that 
sort  of  thing  began  to  decipher  them,  and  sud 
denly  they  came  upon  the  story  of  Cinderella — 
her  golden  slipper,  fairy  godmother,  princely 
lover  and  all.  But  do  children  say  "  Chestnut !  " 
if  you  give  them  this,  and  then  tell  them  the 
story  of  Cinderella  ?  Not  they ! — unless  you 
don't  know  how  to  tell  it.  A  story  is  like  food  : 
it  doesn't  matter  how  familiar  it  is,  if  you  know 
how  to  serve  it  well. 

Why,  the  story-teller,  of  the  same  old  stories, 
too,  is  as  busy  in  Persia  to-day  as  he  was  thou 
sands  of  years  ago,  and  one  of  the  most  impor 
tant  of  his  duties  is  the  passing  of  the  hat.  You 
will  find  him  on  the  street  corners  of  the  towns 
27 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

with  a  crowd  about  him.  When  he  reaches  the 
most  interesting  part  of  the  story  he  will  stop, 
like  the  newspaper  serial  with  "To  be  continued 
in  our  next."  Then  he  passes  his  fez.  The 
listeners  know  well  what  the  remainder  of  the 
story  will  be ;  but  instead  of  "  Chestnut !  "  he 
hears  the  melodious  clink  of  coppers. 

Not  only  the  Shah,  but  many  a  wealthy  Per 
sian  keeps  a  jester  for  the  sole  purpose  of  being 
made  to  laugh  when  he  feels  dull.  Some  of  the 
antics  of  these  chaps  would  not  seem  funny  to  an 
American — such,  for  instance,  as  going  about  on 
all  fours,  knocking  people  down  and  dressing  in 
fantastic  attire — but  there  is  no  accounting  for 
tastes,  as  the  old  woman  said  when  she  kissed  the 
cow.  The  Shah's  jester  has  a  great  swing — he  has 
twelve  houses,  and  not  a  mortgage  on  one  of 
them.  He  also  has  all  the  wives  he  wants.  Who 
says  that  talent  is  not  properly  appreciated  in 
Persia  ? 

If  you  will  run  over  to  Europe  you  will  find 
the  Irish  prototype  of  the  Persian  story-teller  on 
the  streets  of  Dublin  and  Limerick.  Many  a 
time  I  have  seen  him  on  the  street  corner  telling 
the  thrilling  story  of  how  O'Shamus  was  shot,  or 
some  similarly  cheering  tale — for  fighting  seems 
the  funniest  of  fun  to  an  Irishman.  And  just 
before  first  blood  is  drawn,  the  story-teller  pauses 
to  pass  the  hat,  into  which  drop  hard-earned 

28 


SUNSHINE  AND  FUN 

pennies  that  had  been  saved  for  something  else. 
It  is  the  old  Persian  act.  The  manner  is  the 
same,  though  the  coat  and  hat  are  different,  so  I 
should  not  be  surprised  to  learn  that  the  Irish 
are  direct  descendants  of  the  ancient  Persians. 


The  Irish  Prototype  of  the  Persian  Story-Teller. 

It  would  be  easy  to  follow  the  parallel  and  to 
show  how  from  the  ancient  jester  was  evolved 
the  modern  comedian ;  but  of  the  "  true-blue  " 
jesters  of  to-day — the  men  who  evolve  fun  from 
their  own  inner  consciousness — I  am  compelled 
to  quote :  "  There  are  only  a  few  of  us  left." 
Of  these  "  entertainers,"  as  they  are  called  in 
modern  parlance,  I  shall  let  out  a  few  of  the 
secrets  which  admit  them  to  the  drawing-room 

29 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

of  England  and  America  to  put  a  frosting,  as  it 
were,  on  proceedings  that  otherwise  might  be  too 
sweet,  perhaps  too  heavy.  The  modern  jester 
comes  to  the  aid  of  the  queen  of  the  drawing- 
room  just  as  the  ancient  one  did  to  the  monarch 
of  old,  so  he  is  still  an  honored  guest  at  the  table 
of  royalty. 


30 


II 

SUNNY  MEN  OF  SERIOUS  PRESENCE 

Kichard  Croker. — A  Good  Fellow  and  Not  Hard  to  Approach. — 
If  One  is  Not  in  Politics. — Croker  as  a  Haymaker. — Does 
Not  Keep  Opinions  on  Tap. — He  and  Chauncey  Depew  on 
New  York  City  Politics. — Croker  Bewilders  a  London 
Salesman. — His  Greatest  Pride. — Recorder  Goff. — Not  as 
Severe  as  His  Acts — Justice  Tempered  With  Mercy. — Two 
Puzzling  Cases. 

ONE  of  the  privileges  of  a  cheerful  chap 
without   any  axes  to  grind  is  that  of 
seeing  behind  the  mask  that  some  men 
of   affairs  are  compelled  to  wear.     Often   men 
whom  half  of  the  world  hates  and  the  other  half 
fears  are  as  companionable  as  a  hearty  boy,  if 
they  are  approached  by  a  man  who  doesn't  want 
anything  he  shouldn't  have — wants  nothing  but 
a  slice  of  honest  human  nature. 

Such  a  man  is  Kichard  Croker,  for  years  the 
autocrat  of  Tammany  Hall  and  still  believed,  by 
many,  to  have  the  deciding  word  on  any  ques 
tion  of  Tammany's  policy.  With  most  men  it  is 
a  serious  matter,  requiring  much  negotiation,  to 
get  a  word  with  Mr.  Croker,  and  they  dare  not 
expect  more  than  a  word  in  return. 

31 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

"While  at  Richfield  Springs,  a  few  years  ago,  I 
drove  out  to  call  on  Mr.  Croker  at  his  farm.  I 
met  Mrs.  Croker  on  the  piazza  and  was  told  I 
would  probably  find  her  husband  in  the  hay-field  ; 
so  I  went  around  behind  the  stables  and  found 
the  leader  of  Tammany  Hall  in  his  shirt  sleeves 
pitching  hay  upon  a  wagon.  At  that  time  an 
exciting  political  contest  was  "on,"  and  New 
York  politicians  were  continually  telegraphing 
and  telephoning  their  supreme  manager, — the 
only  man  who  could  untangle  all  the  hard  knots, 
— yet  from  his  fields  Richard  Croker  conducted 
the  campaign,  and  with  so  little  trouble  to  him 
that  it  did  not  keep  him  from  making  sure  of  his 
hay-crop,  by  putting  it  in  himself. 

In  later  years  I  saw  much  more  of  Mr.  Croker, 
for  I  was  often  his  guest  at  Wantage,  his  country 
home  in  England,  and  I  could  not  help  studying 
him  closely,  for  he  was  a  most  interesting  man. 
In  appearance  he  suggested  General  Grant ;  he 
was  of  Grant's  stature  and  build,  his  close- 
cropped  beard  and  quiet  but  observant  eyes  re 
called  Grant,  and  his  face,  like  the  great  general's, 
suggested  bulldog  courage  and  tenacity,  as  well 
as  the  high  sense  of  self-reliance  that  makes  a 
man  the  leader  of  his  fellow  men.  Few  of  his 
closest  associates  know  more  of  him  than  his  face 
expresses,  for  he  is  possessed  of  and  by  the  rarest 
of  all  human  qualities — that  of  keeping  his 

32 


SUNNY  MEN  OF  SERIOUS  PEESENCE 

opinions  to  himself.  Most  political  leaders  say 
things  which  bob  up  later  to  torment  them,  but 
Croker's  political  enemies  never  have  the  luck  of 
giving  him  his  own  words  to  eat.  He  can  and 
does  talk  freely  with  men  whom  he  likes  and 
who  are  not  tale-bearers,  but  he  never  talks  from 
the  judgment  seat.  Even  about  ordinary  affairs 
he  is  too  modest  and  sensible  to  play  Sir  Oracle. 
One  day  he  chanced  to  be  off  his  guard  and  gave 
me  a  positive  opinion  on  a  certain  subject ;  when 
afterward  I  recalled  it  to  him  he  exclaimed : 
"  Marshall,  did  I  tell  you  that  ? "  It  amazed 
him  that  he  had  expressed  an  opinion. 

During  one  of  my  visits  to  Wantage  Mr. 
Croker  and  I  were  together  almost  continually 
for  a  week  ;  he  not  only  survived  it,  but  was  a 
most  attentive  and  companionable  host.  His  son 
Bert  was  fond  of  getting  up  early  in  the  morning 
to  hunt  mushrooms,  and  in  order  to  be  awakened 
he  would  set  an  alarm  clock.  "  Early  morning  " 
in  England  and  at  that  season  of  the  year  was 
from  three  to  four  o'clock,  for  dawn  comes  much 
earlier  than  with  us.  His  father  did  not  wish 
him  to  arise  so  early,  so  he  would  go  softly  into 
Bert's  room  and  turn  off  the  alarm,  to  assure  a 
full  night  sleep  for  the  boy.  The  fact  that  he 
could  not  hear  the  alarm  worried  Bert  so  greatly 
that  he  placed  the  clock  directly  over  his  head, 
hanging  it  to  a  string  from  the  ceiling.  But  even 

33 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

in  this  position  Mr.  Croker  succeeded  in  manip 
ulating  it,  and  he  gleefully  told  me  of  it  at  the 
time. 

One  day,  in  London,  Mr.  Croker  called  for  me 
and  took  me  to  see  Mr.  Depew,  who  had  recently 
arrived.  We  drove  to  the  Savoy  and  found  Mr. 
Depew  on  the  steps,  just  starting  for  Paris.  He 
exclaimed : 

"  Hello  ?  What  are  you  two  fellows  doing  to 
gether  ? — fixing  up  the  election  ?  " 

This  was  just  before  Yan  Wyck  was  elected 
mayor ;  Mr.  Strong's  enforcement  of  the  liquor 
law  had  been  so  vigorous  as  to  enrage  many 
bibulous  voters.  As  he  bade  us  good-bye  Mr. 
Depew  found  time  to  say  to  Mr.  Croker, 

"  All  your  party  will  have  to  do  will  be  to  hold 
their  hats  and  catch  the  votes." 

At  the  time  of  the  Queen's  Jubilee  we  were  in 
vited  to  view  the  procession  from  Mr.  Jefferson 
Levy's  apartment  in  Piccadilly,  but  Mr.  Croker 
declined  ;  he  told  me  afterward  that  he  would 
have  offended  many  Irish  voters  in  America  had 
he  appeared  in  any  way  to  honor  the  Queen. 

Before  starting  from  London  for  Wantage  one 
day,  Mr.  Croker  asked  me  to  go  to  a  furniture 
dealer's  with  him  ;  he  had  some  purchases  to 
make.  As  we  entered  the  place  he  said  to  me, 
"  We've  only  half  an  hour  in  which  to  catch  the 
train  " — but  the  way  he  bought  furniture  did 
34 


SUNNY  MEN  OF  SERIOUS  PRESENCE 

not  make  him  lose  the  train.  He  would  say, 
pointing  to  a  dresser, 

"  Ho\v  much  is  that  ?  " 

"  Six  guineas,  sir." 

"  Give  me  six  of  them." 

Pointing  to  another, 

"  How  much  is  that  one  ?  " 

"  Five  guineas,  sir." 

"  Well,  seven  of  those" — and  so  on. 

With  such  rapid  fire,  even  though  he  expended 
more  than  a  thousand  dollars,  and  not  at  hap 
hazard  either,  there  was  ample  time  to  catch  the 
train.  The  incident,  though  slight  in  itself,  is 
indicative  of  his  quickness  of  decision  ;  but  it  so 
utterly  upset  the  dealers,  accustomed  to  English 
deliberation,  that  he  begged  permission  to  wait 
until  next  day  to  prepare  an  itemized  bill. 

Mr.  Croker's  quiet  unobtrusive  manner,  which 
has  so  often  deceived  his  political  enemies  into 
believing  that  he  was  doing  nothing,  dates  back 
a  great  many  years — as  far  back  as  his  courtship. 
The  future  Mrs.  Croker  and  her  sister  were 
charming  girls  and  their  home  was  the  social 
rendezvous  of  all  young  people  of  the  vicinity. 
Their  father  was  a  jolly  good  fellow  and  as  pop 
ular  as  his  daughters  ;  when  the  latter  went  to  a 
dance  he  was  always  their  chaperon,  and  a  most 
discreet  one  he  was  for  he  always  went  up-stairs 
and  slept  until  the  time  to  go  home.  Mr.  Croker 

35 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

was  at  the  house  a  great  deal  but  was  so  quiet 
and  devoted  so  much  time  to  chat  with  the  father 
that  no  one  suspected  that  one  of  the  daughters 
was  the  real  attraction,  but  with  the  quiet  per 
sistence  that  had  always  characterized  him  he 
"  won  out." 

Great  soldiers  delight  in  fighting  their  battles 
o'er  and  no  one  begrudges  them  the  pleasure. 
Mr.  Croker  has  been  in  some  desperate  fights  and 
won  some  great  victories.  Hoping  for  a  story  or 
more  about  them  I  one  day  asked  him  of  what  in 
his  life  he  was  most  proud.  His  reply  indicated 
the  key-note  of  his  nature,  for  it  was  : 

"  That  I  have  never  gone  back  on  my  word." 
Another  man  who  has  kept  many  thousands 
of  smart  fellows  uncomfortably  awake  and  in 
fear  is  Kecorder  Goff.  When  he  conducted  the 
inquiries  of  the  Lexovv  Committee  he  extracted 
so  much  startling  testimony  from  men  whom  no 
one  believed  could  be  made  to  confess  anything, 
that  a  lot  of  fairly  discreet  citizens  were  almost 
afraid  to  look  him  in  the  eye,  for  fear  he  would 
ferret  out  all  their  private  affairs.  I  had  never 
seen  him,  but  I  had  mentally  made  a  distinct 
picture  of  him  as  a  tall,  thin,  dark-browed, 
austere,  cold  character,  rather  on  the  order  of  a 
Grand  Inquisitor,  as  generally  accepted.  When 
we  met  it  was  at  a  dinner,  where  I  sat  beside 
him  and  had  to  retouch  almost  every  detail  of 

36 


SUNNY  MEN  OF  SERIOUS  PEESENCE 

ray  picture,  for,  although  tall  and  thin,  he  was 
blonde  and  rosy,  of  sanguine  temperament,  with 
merry  eyes,  a  genial  smile  and  as  talkative  as 
every  good  fellow  ought  to  be. 

The  acquaintance  begun  at  that  dinner-table 
was  continued  most  pleasantly  by  many  meetings 
in  Central  Park,  which  both  of  us  frequented  on 
our  bicycles.  One  day,  while  we  were  resting  in 
the  shadow  of  Daniel  Webster's  statue,  I  made 
bold  to  ask  him  how  he  came  by  his  marvelous 
power  of  extracting  the  truth  from  unwilling 
occupants  of  the  witness-box.  He  murmured 
something  self-deprecatory,  but  told  me  the  fol 
lowing  story  in  illustration  of  one  of  his  indirect 
methods  and  also  of  how  truth  will  persist  in 
muddling  the  wits  of  a  liar. 

"  A  man  was  brought  before  me  accused  of  kill 
ing  another  man  with  a  bottle.  He  had  a  friend 
whose  mother  was  on  the  witness  stand  and  she 
tried  to  save  her  son's  friend,  though  she  perjured 
herself  to  do  so.  She  swore  she  had  seen  the 
murderer  and  could  describe  him.  I  was  con 
vinced  of  the  accused's  guilt  and  the  woman's 
perjury,  and  I  determined  to  surprise  her  into 
confession. 

"  I  got  seven  men  of  varying  appearance  who 
were  in  the  court-room  to  stand  up,  which  they 
did,  though  greatly  mystified,  for  they  were 
present  only  as  spectators.  I  asked  the  woman 

37 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STREET 

if  the  first  man  was  the  murderer.     She  promptly 
answered  '  No,'  to  his  great  relief. 

"  '  But,'  I  said,  '  he  resembles  the  murderer, 
doesn't  he  ?  He  is  the  same  height  ? ' 

"  '  Oh,  no,'  she  answered,  '  he  is  much  taller.' 
Motioning  the  first  man  to  sit  down,  I  pointed  to 
No.  2,  and  asked : 

" '  This  man  is  the  same  height  as  the  mur 
derer,  is  he  not  ?  ' 

"  '  Yes,  exactly.'  I  asked  the  man  his  height, 
and  he  said  '  five  feet  seven.'  He  was  told  to  sit 
down,  and  No.  3,  who  had  a  head  of  most  un 
compromising  red  hair,  was  brought  forward. 

"  '  You  said  the  murderer  had  red  hair  like  this 
man,  didn't  you  ?' 

"  '  Oh,  no — brown,  curly  hair.' 

"  '  Were  his  eyes  like  this  man's  ?  ' 

"  '  No,  they  were  brown.' 

"Number  four,  who  had  fine  teeth,  was  asked 
to  open  his  mouth,  greatly  to  his  embarrass 
ment. 

"  '  Were  the  murderer's  teeth  like  this  man's  ? ' 

" '  No,  he  had  two  gold  teeth,  one  on  each 
side.' 

"  Number  five  was  rather  stout  and  the  woman 
thought  the  murderer  about  his  size;  he  weighed 
0ne  hundred  and  sixty.  Six  and  seven  were 
looked  at  and  sent  back  to  their  seats,  nervous 
and  perspiring.  Then  I  said  : 

38 


SUNNY  MEN  OF  SERIOUS  PRESENCE 

"  '  We  find  from  this  woman's  testimony  that 
the  murderer  was  about  five  feet  seven  in  height, 
weighed  one  hundred  and  sixty,  had  dark  curly 
hair,  brown  eyes,  two  gold  teeth  and  a  habit  of 
keeping  his  hands  in  his  pockets.' 

"  By  this  time  the  prisoner  was  white  and 
shaking,  for  bit  by  bit  the  witness  had  described 
him  exactly.  When  the  woman  realized  what 
she  had  done  she  broke  down  and  confessed  that 
the  prisoner  was  the  real  criminal." 

It  was  charged  that  a  man  brought  before 
Eecorder  Goff  for  theft  was  an  old  offender  and 
had  served  a  term  in  states  prison,  but  the 
accused  denied  it  and  no  amount  of  cross- 
questioning  by  the  prosecution  could  shake  his 
denial.  Mr.  Goff  noticed  that  he  had  lost  a 
thumb ;  as  prisoners  are  generally  given  a  name 
by  their  comrades,  signifying  some  physical 
peculiarity,  the  Recorder  said  : 

"  While  in  prison  you  were  known  as  One- 
Thumbed  Jack."  Taken  off  his  guard,  the  man 
asked : 

"  How  did  you  know  that  ?  " 

"  Then  you  are  an  ex-convict  ?  " 

"  Well,  yes,  sir,  but  I  had  honest  reasons  for 
not  wanting  it  known  and  I'd  like  to  speak  to 
you  alone,  sir." 

Mr.  Goff  granted  the  request  and  they  retired 
to  a  small  room  where  the  prisoner  after  telling 

39 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

his  real  name,  related  a  touching  story  of  devotion 
to  a  young  sister  whom  he  brought  up  and  edu 
cated  with  the  proceeds  of  his  earlier  crimes. 
While  serving  his  prison  term  he  had  written 
her  letters  which  his  pals  posted  for  him  in  differ 
ent  parts  of  the  world  to  make  her  believe  he 
was  traveling  so  constantly  that  any  letters  from 
her  could  not  reach  him.  This  sister  was  now 
married  and  had  two  children  and  it  would  break 
her  heart  to  find  out  that  her  brother  was  a  con 
vict  or  had  ever  been  one.  So  he  wished  to  be 
sentenced  under  another  name.  Mr.  Goff  said : 

"  I  will  suspend  sentence." 

Later  the  man's  statements  were  investigated 
and  found  to  be  true.  So  his  request  to  be  sen 
tenced  under  an  assumed  name  was  granted. 
Farther,  he  got  but  two  years,  although  he  would 
have  been  "  sent  up  "  for  ten  years  had  it  not 
been  for  his  story — a  fact  which  shows  how  in 
Recorder  Goff,  the  city's  greatest  terror  to  evil 
doers,  justice  is  tempered  with  mercy. 


40 


Ill 

AT  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  AND  NEAR  IT 

My  Prophecy  to  "Major"  McKinley. — President  McKinley 
Becomes  "  One  of  the  Boys  "  of  My  Audience  ;  His  Atten 
tion  to  His  Wife. — How  He  Won  a  Vermont  City. — A 
Story  of  the  Spanish  War. — My  First  Meeting  With  Pres 
ident  Harrison. — A  Second  and  More  Pleasing  One. — A 
Chance  Which  I  Gladly  Lost. — Some  of  President  Harrison's 
Stories. — I  Led  a  Parade  Given  in  His  Honor. — Vice- 
Presidents  Morton  and  Hobart. 

IT  had  been  ray  good  fortune  to  meet  several 
presidents  of  the  United  States,  as  well  as 
some  gentlemen  who  would  have  occupied 
the  White   House  had  the  president  died,  and  I 
learned  that,  in  spite  of  their  many  torments  and 
tormentors,  they  all  liked  to  get  into  the  sun 
shine  and  that  they  had  done  it  so  much  that  the 
sunshine    had    returned    the    compliment  right 
heartily,  as  is  its  way  "  in  such  case  made  and 
provided." 

Some  years  ago  while  entering  a  New  York  hotel 
to  call  on  Madame  Patti  I  chanced  to  meet  in  the 
corridor  William  McKinley,  who  was  then  gov 
ernor  of  Ohio,  though  his  New  York  acquaint 
ances  still  called  him  "  Major."  His  was  one 

41 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

of  the  big,  broad  natures  that  put  all  of  a 
man's  character  in  full  view,  and  there  was  a 
great  lot  in  McKinley's  face  that  day, — thought- 
fulness,  self-reliance,  strength,  honesty,  as  well 
as  some  qualities  that  seldom,  combine  in  one 
man — simplicity  and  shrewdness,  modesty  and 
boldness,  serious  purpose  and  cheerfulness,  that  I 
became  quite  happy  in  contemplation  of  him  as  a 
trusty  all-around  American.  He  greeted  me  very 
cordially  and  as  I  was  smiling  broadly,  he 
asked  : 

"  What  pleases  you,  Marshall  ?  " 

"  The  fact  that  I  am  shaking  hands  with  the 
future  president  of  the  United  States,"  I  replied. 

Some  years  afterward,  when  Mr.  McKinley 
had  fulfilled  my  prophecy,  I  was  the  guest  of 
D.  A.  Loring,  at  Lake  Champlain,  and  the  presi 
dent  and  most  of  his  cabinet  were  at  the  same 
hotel.  Besides  Mr.  and  Mrs.  McKinley  there 
were  Vice- President  and  Mrs.  Hobart,  Secretary 
of  War  Alger  and  Mrs.  Alger,  Postmaster  Gen 
eral  Geary  and  Mrs.  Geary,  Cornelius  1ST.  Bliss, 
Secretary  of  the  Interior,  and  others.  Every  one 
at  the  hotel  treated  the  distinguished  guest  with 
the  greatest  consideration,  by  letting  him  en 
tirely  alone,  so  that  he  got  the  rest  he  sorely 
needed.  He  walked  much  about  the  grounds, 
enjoying  the  bracing  atmosphere  and  peaceful, 
beautiful  surroundings. 

42 


AT  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  AND  NEAE  IT 

One  day  I  went  into  the  bowling  alley  to 
spend  half  an  hour  or  more  with  the  boys  who 
set  up  the  pins  ;  boys  are  always  my  friends,  and 
I  was  going  to  do  some  card  and  sleight-of-hand 
tricks  for  these  little  fellows.  Just  as  I  had 
gathered  them  about  me  and  started  to  amuse 
them,  Mr.  McKinley  came  to  the  door  and  looked 
in,  smiled,  came  over  to  us  and  asked  what  was 
going  on.  I  replied  : 

"  Well,  Mr.  President,  I  was  just  doing  some 
tricks  to  amuse  the  boys." 

"  Then  I'm  one  of  the  boys,"  said  the  president 
of  the  United  States.  He  sat  down  in  the  circle 
and  was  one  of  my  most  attentive  auditors. 
When  I  had  finished  he  walked  apart  with  me 
and  said : 

"  Marshall,  do  you  remember  meeting  me  in 
the  Windsor  Hotel,  New  York,  and  saying  you 
were  shaking  hands  with  the  future  president  of 
the  United  States  ?  " 

"  I  recall  it  very  distinctly,"  I  replied. 

"  I  have  just  been  thinking,"  he  said,  "  of  that 
— to  me,  strange  prophecy.  You  must  be 
possessed  of  some  clairvoyant  power."  There  are 
some  things  you  can't  tell  a  man  to  his  face,  so  I 
didn't  explain  to  him  that  a  man  with  a  charac 
ter  like  his  couldn't  help  becoming  president, 
when  the  whole  country  had  come  to  know 
him. 

43 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STREET 

I  shall  never  forget  what  I  saw  of  his  lover- 
like  devotion  to  his  invalid  wife,  nor  her  evident 
gratitude  for  his  every  service,  nor  the  sweet 
solicitude  and  pride  with  which  she  regarded 
him.  One  day  his  brother  Abner  arrived,  went 
to  the  portion  of  the  hotel  reserved  for  the  presi 
dent,  met  Mrs.  McKinley  and  asked  : 

"  Is  William  in  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  was  the  reply,  "  but  I  shall  not  let 
you  see  him  for  an  hour.  He  is  resting." 

A  little  incident  that  was  described  to  me  by 
an  eye-witness  brought  out  one  of  the  qualities 
which  endeared  President  McKinley  to  his  fellow 
countrymen.  While  on  a  brief  visit  across  the 
lake,  in  Vermont,  he  was  driving  through  a  small 
city,  followed  by  a  great  procession  of  people 
who  had  turned  out  in  his  honor.  While  passing 
through  the  main  street  he  noticed  an  old  man 
seated  on  the  piazza  of  a  modest  dwelling,  and 
asked  the  mayor,  who  was  beside  him  in  the  car 
riage, 

"  Who  is  that  old  gentleman  ?  " 

"  That  is  Mr.  Philip,  father  of  Captain  Philip, 
of  the  battleship  Texas"  was  the  reply. 

"  I  thought  that  must  be  he,"  said  the  presi 
dent.  "  Will  you  kindly  stop  the  carriage  ?  " 

The  carriage  stopped  and  so  did  the  mile  or 
more  of  procession,  while  the  president  jumped 
out,  unassisted,  ran  up  the  steps,  grasped  the 

44 


AT  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  AND  NEAB  IT 

hand  of  the  astonished  and  delighted  old  man, 
and  said : 

"Mr.  Philip,  I  want  to  congratulate  you  on 
having  such  a  son  as  Captain  Philip,  and  I  feel 
that  the  thanks  of  the  nation  are  due  you  for 
having  given  the  world  such  a  brave,  patriotic 
man." 

The  old  man,  tremulous  with  gratification, 
could  scarcely  find  words  with  which  to  thank 
the  head  of  the  nation  for  his  appreciative  atten 
tion,  but  the  president's  simple,  friendly  manner 
quickly  put  him  at  his  ease  and  the  two  men 
chatted  freely  for  several  minutes,  the  president 
evidently  enjoying  it  keenly.  Then  after  a 
hearty  invitation  to  visit  him  at  the  "White 
House,  Mr.  McKinley  got  into  his  carriage  and 
the  procession  again  started. 

Mention  of  the  Texas  recalls  a  visit  I  made  to 
her  when  she  was  at  the  New  York  Navy  Yard 
for  repairs,  after  the  fight  with  Cervera's  fleet,  in 
which  the  Texas  was  the  principal  American 
sufferer.  A  young  officer  took  me  about  the 
ship,  showed  me  her  honorable  wounds,  repeated 
Captain  Philip's  historic  remark,  made  after  the 
battle, — "  Don't  cheer,  boys  ;  the  poor  fellows 
are  dying,"  and  told  me  the  following  story  : 

One  of  our  Irish  sailors  was  very  active  in  sav 
ing  the  Spaniards  in  the  water,  throwing  them 
ropes,  boxes  and  everything  floatable  he  could 

45 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STREET 

find.  But  there  was  one  Spaniard  who  missed 
everything  that  was  thrown  him.  Just  before 
the  battle  we  had  had  religious  service  and  the 
altar  was  still  on  deck,  so  our  Irishman  grabbed 
it,  heaved  it  overboard  and  yelled  : 

"  There,  ye  haythen  1  If  that  won't  save  ye, 
nothin'  ever  will." 

While  Mr.  Harrison  was  president  I  became 
pleasantly  acquainted  with  his  son  Russell,  who, 
having  read  of  President  Cleveland's  very  kind 
treatment  of  me  when  I  went  to  him  with  a  letter 
of  introduction  from  Henry  Ward  Beecher, 
wanted  me  to  meet  his  father  and  gave  me  a  let 
ter  to  that  effect.  My  visit  to  the  White  House 
was  quite  impressive — to  me.  Soon  after  I 
reached  Chamberlain's,  at  Washington,  a  mes 
senger  arrived  and  informed  me  that  the  Presi 
dent  had  received  my  letter  of  introduction  and 
desired  me  to  call  the  next  morning  at  ten 
o'clock,  which  I  did. 

After  passing  the  sentinels  at  the  door  I  was 
taken  into  the  room  of  Mr.  Private  Secretary 
"Lije"  Halford,  who  greeted  me  cordially  and 
said :  "  Mr.  Wilder,  the  president  will  see  you." 
I  was  ushered  into  Mr.  Harrison's  presence,  and 
the  following  conversation  ensued  : 

"  Mr.  President,  this  is  Mr.  Wilder." 

" How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Wilder? " 

"  How  do  you  do,  Mr.  President  ?  " 
46 


AT  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  AND  NEAR  IT 

A  profound  silence  followed  ;  it  seemed  to  me 
to  be  several  minutes  long ;  then  I  said  : 

"  Good-day,  Mr.  President." 

"  Good-day,  Mr.  Wilder." 

After  leaving  the  room  I  turned  to  Mr.  Hal- 
ford,  raised  my  coat-tails  and  asked  : 

"  Won't  you  please  kick  me  ?  " 

Of  course  I  had  to  refer  to  the  incident  in  my 
monologue  that  season,  for  it  isn't  every  day  that 
a  professional  entertainer  is  invited  to  call  at  the 
White  House.  But  I  did  not  care  to  tell  exactly 
what  occurred,  so  I  adopted  an  old  minstrel  joke 
and  said : 

"I  called  on  the  president  the  other  day.  I 
walked  in,  in  a  familiar  way,  and  said,  'How  do 
you  do,  Mr.  President  ? '  He  said,  '  Sir,  I  cannot 
place  you.'  '  Well,'  I  replied,  '  that's  what  I'm 
here  for.' " 

I  afterward  heard  that  President  Harrison  was 
very  cold  and  lacked  cordiality  ;  still  later  I  dis 
covered,  with  my  own  eyes  and  ears,  that  he  had 
a  kind  heart  and  genial  nature.  One  summer 
while  I  was  at  Saratoga  I  was  asked  by 
Mr.  W.  J.  Arkell  to  Mount  McGregor,  to  meet 
President  Harrison  at  dinner  and  to  become  a 
member  of  a  fishing  party.  The  occasion  was 
the  president's  birthday,  and  the  invitation  was 
the  more  welcome  when  I  learned  that  a  list  of 
the  people  at  the  Saratoga  hotels  had  been  shown 

47 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

the  president,  who  had  himself  selected  the  guests 
for  his  birthday  celebration.  At  Mount  McGregor 
I  found,  as  one  always  finds,  wherever  the  Presi 
dent  of  the  United  States  is  staying  a  few  days, 
thirty  or  forty  newspaper  correspondents,  all  of 
whom  I  knew  and  most  of  whom  professed  to 
doubt  my  ability  to  make  the  president  laugh. 
This  did  not  worry  me,  for  I  don't  love  trouble 
enough  to  look  ahead  for  it,  and  dinner  time, 
when  the  laughing  was  to  begin,  was  a  few  hours 
distant. 

We  all  went  by  carriage  to  a  stream  about  five 
miles  away  and  all  helped  fill  the  president's 
basket  with  fish, — for  which  he  got  full  credit,  in 
the  next  day's  newspapers.  My  own  contri 
butions  were  few  and  small,  for  I  never  was  a 
good  fisherman.  So  I  was  grateful  when  Russell 
Harrison  took  me  to  a  little  pool  where  he  was 
sure  we  would  have  great  luck.  But  not  a  bite 
did  either  of  us  get.  Then  I  recalled  something 
that  a  veteran  fisherman  played  on  me  when  I 
was  too  young  to  be  suspicious ;  it  was  to  beat 
the  water  to  attract  the  attention  of  the  fish. 
Russell  kindly  assisted  me  at  beating  the  water, 
but  the  fish  beat  us  both  by  keeping  away. 

When  we  got  back  to  the  hotel  and  to  the  ban 
quet  it  was  announced  that  there  were  to  be  no 
speeches,  but  the  president  would  make  a  few 
remarks  and  I  would  be  called  on  for  a  few 

48 


AT  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  AND  NEAE  IT 

stories.  Consequently  I  had  no  mind  or  appetite 
for  dinner,  for  most  of  the  guests  were  newspaper 
men  who  had  been  surfeited  with  stories  ever 
since  they  entered  the  business,  and  the  most  im 
portant  listener  would  be  the  president,  who  the 
boys  had  said  I  couldn't  make  laugh. 

I  was  still  mentally  searching  my  repertoire, 
although  I  had  already  selected  a  lot  of  richness, 
when  the  president  arose  and  made  some  general 
remarks.  But  it  was  impossible  for  him  to  forget 
that  at  this  same  place — Mount  McGregor,  Ex- 
President  Grant  breathed  his  last,  so  Mr.  Harri 
son's  concluding  remarks  were  on  the  line  that 
any  other  whole-hearted  American  would  have 
struck  in  similar  circumstances.  As  I  am  a 
whole-hearted  American  myself,  they  struck  me 
just  where  I  live,  and  I  am  not  ashamed  to  con 
fess  that  they  knocked  me  out. 

So,  when  I  was  called  upon,  I  declined  to  re 
spond.  Several  friends  came  to  my  chair  and 
whispered  :  "  Go  ahead,  Marsh."  "  Don't  lose  the 
chance  of  your  life  ;  don't  you  know  whatever  is 
said  at  this  dinner  will  be  telegraphed  all  over 
the  United  States  ?  "  But  I  held  my  tongue — 
or  it  held  itself.  There  is  a  place  for  every 
thing ;  a  table  at  which  the  President  of  the 
United  States  had  just  been  talking  most  feel 
ingly  of  the  pathetic  passing  of  another  president 
was  no  place  for  a  joke — much  less  for  a  budget 

49 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STREET 


of  jokes,  so  instead  of  making  the  president  laugh 
I  allowed  the  newspaper  men  to  have  the  laugh 
on  me.  In  the  circumstances  they  were  welcome 
to  it. 


V 

"  I  allowed  the  newspaper  men  to  have  a  laugh  on 


me. 


Nevertheless  I  succeeded,  for  the  •  president 
succeeded  in  breaking  the  strain  upon  him,  and 
later  in  the  day  at  his  own  cottage  he  transfixed 
me  with  a  merry  twinkle  of  his  eye  and  said  : 

"  Marshall,  what's  this  story  you've  been  tell 
ing  about  your  visit  to  the  White  House  ?  " 

I  saw  I  was  in  for  it,  so  I  repeated  the  minstrel 
joke,  already  recorded.  He  laughed  so  heartily 
that  there  wasn't  enough  unbroken  ice  between 
us  to  hold  up  a  dancing  mosquito,  so  I  made  bold 
to  tell  him  that  some  men  insisted  that  he  did 
not  appreciate  humor.  Then  he  laughed  again  ; 
I  wish  I  could  have  photographed  that  laugh,  for 
there  was  enough  worldly  wisdom  in  it  to  lessen 

50 


AT  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  AND  NEAE  IT 

the  number  of  cranks  and  office  seekers  at  the 
White  House  for  years  to  come.  But  I  hadn't 
much  time  to  think  about  it,  for  we  began  swap 
ping  yarns  and  kept  at  it  so  long  that  I  suddenly 
reminded  myself,  with  a  sense  of  guilt,  that  I 
was  robbing  the  ruler  of  the  greatest  nation  on 
earth  of  some  of  his  invaluable  time.  Never 
mind  about  my  own  stories  that  evening,  but 
here  is  one  that  President  Harrison  told  me,  to 
illustrate  the  skill  of  some  men  in  talking  their 
way  out  of  a  tight  place. 

There  was  a  man  in  Indiana  who  had  a  way  of 
taking  his  own  advice,  though  he  generally  had 
to  do  things  afterward  to  get  even  with  himself. 
He  was  a  hog  dealer,  and  one  season  he  drove  a 
lot  of  hogs  to  Indianapolis,  about  a  hundred 
miles  distant,  though  he  could  get  nearly  as  good 
a  price  at  a  town  much  nearer  home.  Arrived 
at  Indianapolis,  he  learned  that  prices  had  gone 
down,  so  he  held  on  for  a  rise,  but  when  offered 
a  good  price  he  stood  out  for  more,  and  insisted 
that  if  he  did  not  get  it  he  would  drive  the  hogs 
back  home,  which  he  finally  did,  and  sold  them 
for  less  than  was  offered  him  in  the  city.  When 
one  of  his  friends  asked  him  why  he  had  acted 
so  unwisely  he  replied  : 

"  I  wanted  to  get  even  with  them  city  hog- 
buyers." 

"  But  did  you  ?  " 

51 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

"  "Well,  they  didn't  get  ray  hogs." 

"  But  what  did  you  get  out  of  the  trans 
action  ?  " 

"  Get  ?  Why,  bless  your  thick  skull,  I  got  the 
society  of  the  hogs  all  the  way  back  home." 

I  had  long  been  puzzled  as  to  the  origin  of  the 
word  "  jay,"  as  applied  to  "  easy  marks  "  among 
countrymen,  and  I  told  the  president  so.  He 
modestly  admitted  that  I  had  come  to  the  right 
shop  for  information  ;  then  he  told  me  this  story : 

"  Winter  was  coming  on  and  a  blue  jay  made 
up  his  mind  that  he  would  prepare  for  it.  He 
found  a  vacant  hut  with  a  knot-hole  in  the  roof, 
and  he  said  to  himself,  '  Here's  a  good  place  to 
store  my  winter  supplies,'  so  he  began  to  collect 
provender.  His  acquaintances  who  passed  by  saw 
what  he  was  doing  ;  then  they  laughed  and  took 
a  rest,  for  they  knew  how  to  get  in  by  the  side 
door.  Whenever  he  dropped  a  nut  or  a  bit  of 
meat  through  the  knot-hole  they  would  hop  in 
below  and  gobble  it.  So,  Marshall,  next  time 
you  hear  any  one  called  a  '  jay '  I'm  sure  you'll 
know  what  it  means." 

The  next  morning,  when  we  all  met  on  the 
president's  special  train  en  route  to  Saratoga,  my 
newspaper  friends  twitted  me  anew  on  not  hav 
ing  made  the  president  laugh,  but  I  said  :  "  Now, 
boys,  you  wait."  Then  I  was  so  impudent  as 
to  approach  the  president  and  say : 

52 


AT  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  AND  NEAB  IT 

"  Mr.  President,  I  am  very  glad  to  have  had 
you  with  me  on  this  fishing  trip,  and  I  hope 
whenever  you  want  to  go  off  on  a  similar  affair 
you  will  let  me  know  it.  At  the  foot  of  the 
mountain  a  band  of  music  and  escort  of  troops 
are  waiting  for  me,  and  in  the  hurry  I  may  not  be 
able  to  say  good-bye  to  you,  so  I  say  it  now." 
But  not  one  eyelash  of  the  president  quivered  as 
he  shook  hands  with  me  and  replied :  "  Glad  to 
have  met  you,  Mr.  Wilder,"  so  the  newspaper 
boys  certainly  did  have  the  laugh  on  me. 

But  the  day  was  still  young.  Arrived  at  the 
Saratoga  depot,  all  hurried  into  carriages. 
Waiting  until  all  were  seated  and  started  in 
procession,  I  found  an  open  landau  and  gave 
the  driver  the  name  of  my  hotel.  "  All  right, 
Mr.  Wilder,"  was  the  reply,  which  did  not 
startle  me,  for  I  am  pretty  well  known  in 
Saratoga  by  the  cabbies — and  the  police.  I 
said : 

"  Make  a  short  cut,  get  out  of  the  crowd  and 
get  me  to  the  hotel  as  soon  as  possible,  so  I  may 
avoid  the  parade."  He  endeavored  to  get  out, 
but  he  got  in  ;  and  in  trying  to  extricate  himself 
he  succeeded  in  driving  through  the  band  and 
past  the  troops  and  finally  beside  the  carriages 
of  the  president  and  his  guests.  I  took  advan 
tage  of  the  occasion  ;  as  I  passed  the  president  I 
stood  up  (though  it  made  little  difference  whether 

53 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

I  sat  or  stood,  for  not  much  of  me  was  visible 
over  the  top  of  the  carriage  door)  and  I  bowed 
my  prettiest.  The  president  raised  his  hat,  as 
did  the  other  guests,  and  I  led  that  procession 
down  Saratoga's  Broadway,  the  sidewalks  of 
which  were  crowded  with  New  York  and 
Brooklyn  people  who  knew  me  and  to  whom 
I  bowed,  right  and  left,  to  the  end  of  the  route, 
where  one  of  the  newspaper  men  said : 

"  Marsh  usually  gets  there." 

In  Mr.  McKinley's  first  term  I  fell  in  conversa 
tion  at  a  hotel  with  a  gentleman  of  manner  so 
genial  that  I  never  forgot  him.  We  exchanged 
a  lot  of  stories,  at  which  I  got  more  than  I  gave, 
but  suddenly  the  gentleman  said  : 

"  I  can  see,  Mr.  Wilder,  that  you  don't  recog 
nize  me." 

"Well,  really,  I  don't,"  I  replied,  with  an 
apologetic  laugh.  "  You  must  pardon  me ;  I 
meet  so  many.  May  I  ask  your  name  ?  " 

"  Certainly.     It  is  Garret  A.  Hobart." 

"The  Vice-president  of  the  United  States! 
Well,  that  isn't  anything  against  you" — for  I 
had  to  say  something,  to  keep  from  collapsing. 
He  seemed  greatly  amused,  and  I  could  not  help 
wondering  if  in  any  other  country  of  the  world 
a  high  official  of  the  government  could  be  picked 
up  in  a  hotel  corridor,  be  chatted  with,  then  be 
compelled  to  introduce  himself,  and  throughout 

54 


AT  THE  WHITE  HOUSE  AND  NEAR  IT 

all  conduct  himself  as  if  he  were  no  one  in  par 
ticular. 

Levi  P.  Morton,  ex-vice-president,  has  been  out 
of  politics  for  some  years,  yet  he  is  remembered 
as  a  man  who  could  tell  good  stories  to  illustrate 
his  points.  Here  is  one  of  them  : 

"  Not  far  from  my  country  place  is  a  farmer 
noted  for  his  fine,  large  cattle.  People  come 
from  everywhere  to  look  at  his  Durhams  and 
Alderneys,  but  they  have  to  be  careful  how  they 


"  The  General  doubled  on  his  tracks." 

venture  into  the  pastures,  for  some  of  the  bulls 
are  ferocious.  A  certain  major-general,  who 
was  very  proud  of  his  title,  was  visiting  near  by, 
and  one  day  while  walking  he  cut  across  the 

55 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STREET 

fields  to  shorten  distance.  Before  he  knew  of 
his  danger  a  big  bull,  bellowing  and  with  tossing 
head,  began  to  chase  him.  The  general  was  a 
swift  runner,  and  made  good  time,  but  the  ani 
mal  too  was  lively,  so  when  the  general  reached 
a  fence  he  dared  not  stop  to  climb  for  the  bull 
was  near  enough  to — well,  help  him.  The  gen 
eral  doubled  on  his  tracks  several  times,  but  the 
bull  kept  dangerously  near.  Suddenly  a  gate 
offered  a  chance  to  shut  off  pursuit.  Near  the 
gate  stood  the  farmer,  who  had  been  viewing  the 
chase;  the  panting  general  turned  on  him  fiercely 
and  asked,  between  gasps  : 

" '  Sir — sir — did  you— see  your  bull  chasing — 
me?' 

"'Ya-as,'  drawled  the  farmer. 

" '  Is  that  all  you  have  to  say,  sir  ?  Do  you 
know  whom  that  bull  was  chasing  ? ' 

"'You,  I  guess.' 

"But  do  you  know  who  I  am,  sir?  I  am 
General  Blank." 

"Wa-all,  why  didn't  you  tell  that  to  the 
bull?" 


56 


IV 

STORY-TELLING  AS  AN  ART 

Different  Ways  of  Story-telling.— The  Slow  Story-teller.— 
Lincoln's  Stories.— Bad  Telling  of  Good  Stories. — The 
Eight  Way  to  Tell  a  Story.— The  Humorous,  the  Comic 
and  the  Witty  Story. — Artemus  Ward,  Robert  J.  Burdette 
and  Mark  Twain  as  Story-tellers. 

THE  ways  of  story-tellers  differ  almost  as 
widely  and  strangely  as  the  ways  of 
politicians — or  women — yet  every  man's 
way  is  the  best  and  only  one  to  him.  I  know 
men  who  consume  so  much  time  in  unloading  a 
story  that  they  remind  me  of  a  ship-captain  who 
had  just  taken  a  pilot  and  was  anxious  to  get 
into  port.  The  pilot  knew  all  the  channels  and 
shoals  of  the  vicinity,  and  being  a  cautious  old 
chap  he  wasn't  going  to  take  any  risks,  so  he 
backed  and  filled  and  crisscrossed  so  many  times 
that  the  captain  growled :  "  Hang  him  !  He 
needs  the  whole  Atlantic  Ocean  to  turn  around 
in." 

Yet   a  lot  of  these  long-winded  story-tellers 
"  get  there  " — and  they  deserve  to,  not  only  be 
cause  a  hearty  laugh  follows,  but  because  hard 
work  deserves  its  reward.     As  to  that,  Abraham 
57 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

Lincoln,  long  before  he  became  president,  and 
when  time  was  of  no  consequence,  had  some 
stories  almost  as  long  as  old-fashioned  sermons  ; 
but  nobody  left  his  seat  by  the  stove  at  the 
country  store,  or  his  leaning  place  at  the  post-of 
fice,  or  his  chair  on  the  hotel  piazza  until  "  Abe  " 
had  reached  the  point.  But  there  never  was 
more  than  one  Abraham  Lincoln.  To-day  a  long- 
winded  story-teller  can  disperse  a  crowd  about 
as  quickly  as  a  man  with  a  bad  case  of  smallpox. 

But  it  isn't  always  length  that  troubles  the 
listener — the  way  in  which  a  tale  is  told  is  the 
thing,  whether  the  tale  itself  be  good  or  bad.  It 
is  never  safe  for  some  people  to  repeat  a  good 
story  they  have  heard,  for  they  may  tell  it  in  a 
fashion  that  is  like  being  bitten  to  death  by  a 
duck. 

I  do  not  claim  originality  for  my  own  method 
and  material.  I  simply  tell  a  story,  using  what 
ever  material  comes  my  way.  Often  a  friend 
will  tell  me  of  something  he  has  seen  or  heard  ; 
I  will  reconstruct  his  narrative,  without  tamper 
ing  with  the  facts,  yet  so  that  the  people  of  whom 
he  told  it  will  not  recognize  it. 

There  is  nothing,  except  advice,  of  which  the 
world  is  more  generous  than  stories.  Everybody 
tells  them.  They  mean  well ;  they  want  to  make 
you  laugh,  and  they  deserve  credit  for  their  in 
tention.  Yet  when  neighbor  Smith  or  Brown 

58 


STOEY-TELLIXG  AS  AN  AET 

calls  you  aside,  looks  as  if  lie  was  almost  bursting 
with  something  good,  and  then  gets  off  a  yarn 
that  was  funny  when  he  heard  it,  but  in  which 
you  can't  discern  the  ghost  of  a  laugh — why, 
you  can't  help  wondering  whether  Smith's  or 
Brown's  funny-bone  hasn't  dropped  off  some 
where,  without  its  owner's  knowledge ;  you  also 
can't  help  wishing  that  he  may  find  it  before  he 
buttonholes  you  again. 

It  seems  to  me  that  the  supreme  art  of  telling 
a  story  is  to  tell  it  quickly  and  hide  the  nub  so 
that  the  hearer's  wits  must  find  it.  But  it  is  pos 
sible  for  some  people  to  tell  it  quickly  at  the  ex 
pense  of  the  essential  parts,  either  through  for- 
getfulness  or  by  not  knowing  them  at  sight. 
For  example,  here  is  a  tale  I  heard  not  long  ago : 

"  The  other  night  Ezra  Kendall  told  about  an 
Irishman  who  had  a  habit  of  walking  in  a  grave 
yard  about  twelve  o'clock  at  night.  Some  boys 
of  the  neighborhood  planned  to  so  dig  and  con 
ceal  a  grave  that  the  Irishman  would  fall  into  it ; 
another  man  was  to  drape  himself  in  a  sheet, 
to  scare  Mike.  The  night  arrived,  the  Irishman 
took  his  customary  walk  and  fell  into  the  hole 
prepared  for  him.  A  boy  in  a  white  sheet  arose, 
and  said  in  a  sepulchral  voice : 

"  '  What  are  you  doing  in  my  grave  ? ' 

" '  What  are  you  doin'  out  of  it  ? '  Mike  re 
plied." 

59 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

Soon  afterward  an  amateur  gave  me  the  story 
as  follows : 

"  I  heard  a  story  the  other  day  by  a  man 
named  Kendall  about  a  man  who  went  out  in  a 
graveyard  at  night  to  walk,  about  twelve  o'clock. 
He  fell  into  a  ditch,  and  another  fellow  hap 
pened  along  and  said,  '  What  are  you  doing  out  of 


"  What  are  you  doing  in  my  grave  ?  " 

it  ? ' — or  something  like  that.     I  know  I  laughed 
like  the  deuce  when  I  heard  it." 

But  even  when  a  story  has  been  committed  to 
memory  or  written  in  shorthand  on  a  shirt-cuff, 
to  be  read  off  without  a  word  lost  or  misplaced, 
much  depends  upon  the  teller.  Some  people's 

60 


STORY-TELLING  AS  AN  AET 

voices  are  so  effective  that  they  can  tell  a  story 
in  the  dark  and  "  make  good  "  ;  others  can't  get 
through  without  calling  all  their  features  to  help, 
with  some  assistance  from  their  arms  and  legs. 
One  man  will  lead  you  with  his  eye  alone  to  the 
point  of  a  story  ;  another  will  drawl  and  stam 
mer  as  if  he  had  nothing  to  say,  yet  startle  you 
into  a  laugh  a  minute. 

Of  course  a  great  deal  depends  on  the  story 
itself.  People  are  too  grateful  for  a  laugh  to 
look  backward  and  analyze  the  story  that  com 
pelled  it ;  they  generally  believe  that  fun  is  fun, 
and  that  is  about  as  much  as  any  one  knows  of 
it.  The  truth  is  that  while  there  are  all  kinds 
of  stories  there  is  only  one  kind  of  humor. 

As  a  rule,  humorous  stories  are  of  American 
origin,  comic  stories  are  English,  and  witty 
stories  are  French.  The  humorous  story  de 
pends  upon  the  incidents  and  the  manner  of 
telling;  comic  and  witty  stories  depend  upon  the 
matter.  The  humorous  story  may  be  spun  out 
to  any  length  ;  it  may  wander  about  as  it  pleases, 
and  arrive  at  nowhere  in  particular;  but  the 
comic  or  witty  story  must  be  brief,  and  end  in  a 
sharp  point.  The  humorous  story  bubbles  along 
continually  ;  the  other  kinds  burst.  The  humor 
ous  tale  is  entirely  a  work  of  art,  and  only  an 
artist  can  tell  it ;  while  the  witty  or  comic  story 
— oh,  any  one  who  knows  it  can  tell  it. 

61 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

The  act  of  telling  a  humorous  story — by  word 
of  mouth,  understand,  not  in  print — was  created 
in  America,  and  has  remained  at  home,  in  spite 
of  many  earnest  endeavors  to  domesticate  it 
abroad,  and  even  to  counterfeit  it.  It  is  gener 
ally  told  gravely,  the  teller  doing  his  best  to 
disguise  his  attempt  to  inflict  anything  funny 
on  his  listeners ;  but  the  man  with  a  comic  story 
generally  tells  you  beforehand  that  it  is  one  of 
the  funniest  things  he  ever  heard,  and  he  is 
the  first  one  to  laugh — when  he  reaches  the 
end. 

One  of  the  dreadfulest  inflictions  that  suffering 
humanity  ever  endures  is  the  result  of  amateur 
efforts  to  transform  the  humorous  into  the  comic, 
or  vice  versa.  It  reminds  one  of  Frank  Stock 
ton's  tearful  tale  of  what  came  of  one  of  the  best 
things  in  Pickwick  by  being  translated  into  clas 
sical  Greek  and  then  brought  back  into  English. 

The  Kev.  Robert  J.  Burdette,  who  used  to  write 
columns  of  capital  humor  for  The  Burlington 
Hawkeye  and  told  scores  of  stories  superbly,  made 
his  first  visit  to  New  York  about  twenty  years 
ago,  and  was  at  once  spirited  to  a  notable  club 
where  he  told  stories  leisurely  until  half  the 
hearers  ached  with  laughter  and  the  other  half 
were  threatened  with  apoplexy.  Every  one  pres 
ent  declared  it  the  red  letter  night  of  the  club, 
and  members  who  had  missed  it  came  around  and 

62 


STORY-TELLING  AS  AN  ART 

demanded  the  stories  at  second-hand.  Some  ef 
forts  were  made  to  oblige  them,  but  without  avail, 
for  the  tellers  had  twisted  their  recollections  of 
the  stories  into  comic  jokes  ;  so  they  hunted  the 
town  for  Burdette  to  help  them  out  of  their 
muddle. 

The  late  Artemus  Ward,  who  a  generation  ago 
carried  a  tidal  wave  of  humor  from  Maine  to  Cal 
ifornia,  with  some  generous  overflows  each  side 
of  its  course,  had  a  long  serious  face  and  a  drawl 
ing  voice  ;  so  when  he  lectured  in  churches,  as  he 
frequently  did,  a  late-comer  might  have  mistaken 
him  fora  minister,  though  not  for  very  long.  He 
would  drawl  along  without  giving  the  slightest 
indication  of  what  was  coming.  "When  the  joke 
was  unloaded  and  the  audience  got  hold  of  it  he 
would  look  up  with  seemingly  innocent  wonder 
as  to  what  people  were  laughing  at.  This  ex 
pression  of  his  countenance  always  brought  an 
other  laugh.  He  could  get  laughs  out  of  nothing, 
by  mixing  the  absurd  and  the  unexpected,  and 
then  backing  the  combination  with  a  solemn  face 
and  earnest  manner.  For  instance,  it  was  worth 
a  ten-mile  walk  after  dark  on  a  corduroy  road  to 
hear  him  say  :  "  I  once  knew  a  man  in  New 
Zealand  who  hadn't  a  taoth  in  his  head  " — here 
he  would  pause  for  some  time,  look  reminiscent, 
and  continue,  "  And  yet  he  could  beat  a  base- 
drum  better  than  any  other  man  I  ever  knew." 

63 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

Mark  Twain  is  another  famous  humorist  who 
can  use  a  serious  countenance  and  hesitating 
voice  with  wonderful  effect  in  a  story.  His  tale 
of  "  The  Golden  Arm  "  was  the  best  thing  of  its 
kind  I  ever  heard — when  told  as  he  himself  told 
it — but  everything  depended  on  suddenness  and 
unexpectedness  of  climax.  Here  it  is,  as  he  gave 
it:  — 

"  Once  'pon  a  time  dey  wuz  a  mons'us  mean 
man,  en'  he  live  'way  out  in  de  prairie  all  'lone 
by  himself,  'cep'n  he  had  a  wife.  En'  bimeby  she 
died,  en'  he  took  en'  toted  her  'way  out  da'  in  de 
prairie  en'  buried  her.  Well,  she  had  a  golden 
arm  all  solid  gold,  f'om  de  shoulder  down.  He 
wuz  pow'ful  mean — pow'ful ;  en'  dat  night  he 
couldn't  sleep,  'coze  he  wanted  dat  golden  arm  so 
bad. 

"  When  it  come  midnight  he  couldn't  stan'  it 
no  mo',  so  he  got  up,  he  did,  en'  tuk  his  lantern 
en'  shoved  out  troo  de  storm  en'  dug  her  up  en' 
got  de  golden  arm  ;  en'  he  bent  his  head  down 
'gin  de  wind,  en'  plowed  en'  plowed  en'  plowed 
troo  de  snow.  Den  all  on  a  sudden  he  stop  " 
(make  a  considerable  pause  here,  and  look  start 
led,  and  take  a  listening  attitude)  "  en'  say : 
My  Ian',  what's  dat  ?  '  En'  he  listen,  en'  listen, 
en'  de  wind  say  "  (set  your  teeth  together,  and 
imitate  the  wailing  and  wheezing  sing-song  of 
the  wind) :  " '  Buzz-z-zzz  ! '  en'  den,  way  back 

64 


STOEY-TELLIXG  AS  AN  AET 

yonder  wbah  de  grave  is,  he  bear  a  voice — he 
hear  a  voice  all  mix  up  in  de  win' — can't  hardly 
tell  'em  'part:  '  Bzzz-zzz  —  w-h-o  —  g-o-t — m-y 
g-o-l-d-e-n  arm  ?  ' "  (You  must  begin  to  shiver 
violently  now.) 


|-^J'/r?55& . 

10    //'/#'/  ••     Y9*,?V        \   ^s^M*       /•*> 

it&sr'f-  •-VFrUffc      n_^sfl&- 


W  v 

"She'll  fetch  a  dear  little  yelp—" 

"  En'  he  begin  to  shiver  en'  shake,  en'  say : 
Oh,  my  !  Oh,  my  Ian' ! '  En'  de  win'  blow  de 
lantern  out,  en'  de  snow  en'  de  sleet  blow  in  his 
face  en'  'most  choke  him,  en'  he  start  a-plowin' 
knee-deep  toward  home,  mos'  dead,  he  so  sk'yeerd, 
en'  pooty  soon  he  hear  de  voice  again,  en" 

65 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

(pause)  "  it  'us  comin'  after  him  :    *  Buzzz-zzz-— 
w-h-o — g-o-t  m-y  g-o-l-d-e-n — arm  ?  ' 

"  When  he  git  to  de  pasture  he  hear  it  agin — 
closter,  now,  en'  a  comin'  back  dah  in  de  dark  en' 
de  storm"  (repeat  the  wind  and  the  voice). 
"  When  he  git  to  de  house  he  rush  up-stairs,  en' 
jump  in  de  bed,  en'  kiver  up  head  en'  years,  en' 
lay  dah  a-shiverin'  en'  a-shakin',  en'  den  'way  out 
dah  he  hear  it  agin,  en'  a-comin' !  En'  bimeby 
he  hear  "  (pause — awed  ;  listening  attitude)  " — at 
— pat — pat — pat — hit's  a-comin'  up-stairs  !  Den 
he  hear  de  latch,  en'  he  knows  it's  in  de 
room. 

"  Den  pooty  soon  he  knows  it's — standin'  by 
de  bed ! "  (Pause.)  "  Den  he  knows  it's 
a-bendin'  down  over  him, — en'  he  cain't  sca'cely 
git  his  breaf  !  Den — den  he  seem  to  feel  some- 
thin'  c-o-l-d,  right  down  neah  agin'  his  head !  " 
(Pause.) 

"  Den  de  voice  say,  right  at  his  year  :  *  W-h-o 
g-o-t  m-y  g-o-l-d-e-n  arm  ?  '  "  You  must  wail  it 
out  plaintively  and  accusingly ;  then  you  stare 
steadily  and  impressively  into  the  face  of  the 
farthest-gone  auditor — a  girl,  preferably — and  let 
that  awe-inspiring  pause  begin  to  build  itself  in 
the  deep  hush.  When  it  has  reached  exactly  the 
right  length,  jump  suddenly  toward  that  girl  and 
yell :  "  '  You've  got  it ! '" 

If  you  have  got  the  pause  right,  she'll  fetch  a 
66 


STOEY-TELLING  AS  AN  AET 

dear  little  yelp  and  spring  right  out  of  her  shoes ; 
but  you  must  get  the  pause  right,  and  you  will 
find  it  the  most  troublesome  and  aggravating 
and  uncertain  thing  you  ever  undertook. 


67 


ACTORS'  JOKES 

All  of  Them  Full  of  Humor  at  All  Times.— "Joe  "  Jefferson. 
— J.  K.  Emmett. — Fay  Templeton. — Willie  Collier. — An 
Actor's  Portrait  on  a  Church  Wall. — "Gus"  Thomas,  the 
Playwright. — Stuart  Eobson. — Henry  Dixey. — Evans  and 
Hoey.— Charles  Hoyt.— Wilson  Barrett.— W.  S.  Gilbert.— 
Henry  Irving. 

ACTOES   are   the  most  incessant  jokers 
alive.     "Whether  rich  or  poor,  obscure 
or    prominent,    drunk    or    sober,   pros 
perous  or  not  knowing   where  the  next  meal 
is  to  come  from,  or  whether  there  will   be  any 
next  meal,  they  have  always  something  funny  at 
the  tips  of  their  tongues,  and  managers  and  dra 
matic  authors  as  a  rule  are  full  of  humorous  ex 
plosives  that  clear  the  dull  air  and  let  in  the  sun- 

68 


ACTORS'  JOKES 

shine.  They  are  masters  at  repartee,  yet  as  will 
ing  to  turn  a  joke  on  themselves  as  on  one  another, 
and  they  can  work  a  pun  most  brilliantly. 

Joseph  Jefferson  one  day  called  on  President 
Cleveland  with  General  Sherman,  and  carried  a 
small  package  with  him.  All  his  friends  know 
that  dear  old  "  Joe  "  is  forgetful,  so  when  the 
visitors  were  going  the  general  called  attention 
to  the  package  and  asked  :  "  Jefferson,  isn't  this 
yours?" 

"Great  Caesar,  Sherman,"  Jefferson  replied, 
"  you  have  saved  my  life !  "  The  "  life "  re 
ferred  to  was  manuscript  of  his  then  uncom 
pleted  biography.  Jefferson  delights  in  telling 
of  a  new  playmate  of  one  of  his  sons,  who  asked 
another  boy  who  young  Jefferson  was,  and  was 
told: 

"  Oh,  his  father  works  in  a  theatre  some 
where." 

"  Pete  "  Dailey,  while  enjoying  a  short  vaca 
tion,  visited  a  New  York  theatre  when  business 
was  dull.  Being  asked  afterward  how  large  the 
audience  was,  he  replied  :  "  I  could  lick  all  three 
of  them." 

On  meeting  a  friend  who  was  "  fleshing  up," 
he  exclaimed  :  "  You  are  getting  so  stout  that  I 
thought  some  one  was  with  you." 

J.  K.  Emmett  tells  of  a  heathenish  old  farmer 
and  his  wife  who  strayed  into  a  church  and  heard 

69 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

the  minister  say  :  "  Jesus  died  for  sinners."  The 
old  man  nudged  his  wife,  and  whispered : 

u  Serves  us  right  for  not  knowin'  it,  Marthey. 
We  hain't  took  a  newspaper  in  thirty  year." 

Fay  Templeton  tells  of  a  colored  girl,  whose 
mother  shouted  :  "  Mandy,  your  heel's  on  fire !  " 
and  the  girl  replied  :  "  Which  one,  mother  ?  " 
The  girl  was  so  untruthful  that  her  discouraged 
mother  said:  "When  you  die,  dey's  going  to 


"  Actors  are  the  Most  Incessant  Jokers  Alive." 

say :     '  Here  lies  Mandy  Hopkins,  and  de  trufe 
never  came  out  of  her  when  she  was  alive.' " 

I  have  been  the  subject  of  some  actors'  jokes, 
and  enjoyed  the  fun  as  much  as  any  one.  May 
Irwin  had  two  sons,  who  early  in  life  were  sus 
ceptible  to  the  seductive  cigarette,  against  which 

70 


ACTOES'  JOKES 


she  cautioned  them  earnestly.  I  entered  a  res 
taurant  one  day  where  she  and  her  sons  were 
dining,  and  she  called  me  over  and  gave  me  an 
opportunity  to  become  acquainted  with  the  little 
fellows.  After  I  left  them,  one  turned  to  his 
mother  and  asked : 

"  What  makes  that  little  man  so  short  ?  " 
"  Smoking  cigarettes,"  she  replied.    And  they 
never  smoked  again. 


He  Smokes  Cigarettes. 

Willie  Collier  invited  me  one  summer  to  his 
beautiful  home  at  St.  James,  Long  Island.  He 
was  out  when  I  arrived,  and  when  he  returned, 
Mrs.  Collier  said  to  him  : 

"  You're  going  to  have  Marshall  P.  Wilder  for 
dinner,"  and  Willie  replied  : 

"  I'd  rather  have  lamb." 

There  is  a  colony  of  theatrical  people  near 
Collier,  and  they  have  a  small  theatre  in  which 

71 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

a  dazzling  array  of  talent  sometimes  appears,  al 
though  the  performances  are  impromptu  affairs. 
On  Sundays  this  theatre  serves  as  a  church  for 
the  Catholics  of  the  vicinity.  At  one  side  hangs 
a  large  lithograph  of  Willie  Collier,  concerning 
which  the  following  conversation  between  the 
two  Irishmen  was  overheard : 

"  I  wint  into  the  church  this  mornin'  airly, 
while  it  was  pretty  dark,  an'  I  see  a  picture 
hanging  there,  an'  thinkin'  it  must  be  one  av 
the  saints  I  wint  down  on  me  knees  an'  said 
me  prayers  before  it.  When  I  opened  me  eyes 
they'd  got  used  to  the  dark,  an'  if  I  didn't  see 
it  was  a  picture  av  that  actor-man  beyant  that 
they  call  Willie  Collier !  " 

"  An'  what  did  you  do  ? "  asked  the  other 
Irishman. 

"  Sure,  I  tuk  back  as  much  av  me  prayers  as 
I  cud." 

Augustus  Thomas,  the  playwright,  who  is 
always  "Gus"  except  on  the  back  of  an  en 
velop  or  the  bottom  of  his  own  check,  was 
chairman  of  a  Lambs'  Club  dinner  at  which 
I  was  to  speak.  When  I  began,  he  joked  me 
on  my  shortness  by  saying  : 

"  Mr.  Wilder  will  please  rise  when  making  a 
speech." 

I  was  able  to  retort  by  saying  :  "I  will ;  but 
you  won't  believe  it." 

72 


ACTORS'  JOKES 

When  an  acquaintance  said  to  him.  after  being 
wearied  by  a  play  :  "  That  was  the  slowest  per 
formance  I  ever  saw.  Strange,  too,  for  it  had  a 
run  of  a  hundred  nights  in  London !  "  Thomas 
replied : 

"  That's  the  trouble.     It's  exhausted  its  speed." 

He  was  standing  behind  the  scenes  one  night 
with  Miss  Georgia  Busbey,  who  while  waiting 
for  her  cue,  said  :  "  Tell  me  a  story,  Mr.  Thomas, 
before  I  go  on." 

"It  must  be  a  quick  witty  one  then,  Miss 
Busbey." 

"  I  know  it,  but  I've  come  to  the  right  place 
for  it." 

Stuart  Robson  was  present  at  a  Lambs'  Club 
dinner  of  which  Mr.  Thomas  was  chairman  ;  but 
he  endeavored  to  hide  when  called  on  for  a 
speech.  Thousands  of  successful  appearances  on 
the  stage  never  cured  him  of  his  constitutional 
bashfulness. 

Thomas  said :  "  Is  Mr.  Robson  here  ?  If  he 
has  not  gone,  we  should  like  to  hear  from  him." 

Robson  said :  "  Mr.  Thomas,  will  you  kindly 
consider  that  I  have  gone?" 

Thomas  replied  :  "  While  the  drama  lasts,  Mr. 
Robson  can  never  go." 

Robson  had  been  a  close  neighbor  and  friend 
for  many  years  to  Lawrence  Barrett.  His  bosom 
friend  Marshall  Lewis  fell  in  love  with  Bar- 

73 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

rett's  charming  daughter  Millie,  and  Robson  pre 
tended  to  think  it  was  the  greatest  joke  in  the 
world. 

"  Why  don't  you  go  in,  and  win  and  marry 
her,  Marshall  ?  "  he  used  to  say  in  the  squeaky 
voice  which  was  not  for  the  stage  alone.  "  I'll 
tell  you  what  I'll  do — the  day  you  marry  Millie 
Barrett  I'll  give  you  five  thousand  dollars." 

This  went  on  for  some  time,  until  to  Robson's 
astonishment  and  chagrin  Miss  Barrett  accepted 
Lewis. 

By  the  way,  when  Barrett  learned  of  it  he  ex 
claimed:  "My  dear  boy,  you  don't  know  what 
you're  doing.  You  are  robbing  me  out  of  my 
only  remaining  daughter." 

"  Not  at  all,"  Lewis  replied,  with  a  slap  on  the 
back  of  his  father-in-law  elect.  "  I'm  merely 
giving  you  another  son." 

"When  the  marriage  day  came  Robson  did  not 
attend  the  ceremony ;  but  he  sent  his  daughter 
Alicia  in  his  place,  and  gave  her  a  check  for 
five  thousand  dollars,  drawn  to  Lewis'  order,  but 
with  emphatic  orders  not  to  part  from  it  until 
Lewis  and  Miss  Barrett  were  pronounced  man 
and  wife.  When  Alicia  returned  her  father 
asked  her  if  she  had  given  Lewis  the  check. 

The  girl  replied  :  "  Yes,  father." 

"  What  did  he  do  and  say  ?  "  Robson  inquired 
impatiently. 

74 


ACTORS'  JOKES 

"  "Why,  father,  he  was  so  overcome  that  he 
cried  for  a  minute  after  I  gave  it  to  him." 

"  Egad !  "  squeaked  Robson,  "  was  that  all  ? 
Why,  I  cried  for  an  hour  when  I  wrote  it." 

Henry  Dixey  is  an  adept  at  the  leisurely  tale, 
which  is  a  word  picture  from  start  to  finish. 
Here  is  a  sample : 

In  one  of  the  country  stores,  where  they  sell 
everything  from  a  silk  dress  and  a  tub  of  butter 
to  a  hot  drink  and  a  cold  meal,  a  lot  of  farmers 
were  sitting  around  the  stove  one  cold  winter 
day,  when  in  came  Farmer  Evans,  who  was 
greeted  with : 

"  How  d'do,  Ezry  ?  " 

"  How  d'do  boys  ? "  After  awhile  he  con 
tinued  :  "  Wa-all,  I've  killed  my  hog." 

"  That  so  ?     How  much  did  he  weigh  ?  " 

Farmer  Evans  stroked  his  chin  whiskers 
meditatively  and  replied  :  "  "Wa-all,  guess." 

"  'Bout  three  hundred,"  said  one  farmer. 

"No." 

"  Two  seventy-five  ?  "  ventured  another. 

"  No." 

"  I  guess  about  three  twenty-five,"  said  a  third. 

"No." 

Then  all  together  demanded:  "Well,  how 
much  did  he  weigh  ?  " 

"  Dunno.     Hain't  weighed  him  yet." 

Other  men  kept  dropping  in  and  hugging  the 
75 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

stove,  for  the  day  was  cold  and  snowy  outside. 
In  came  Cy  Hopkins,  wrapped  in  a  big  overcoat, 
yet  almost  frozen  to  death ;  but  there  wasn't 
room  enough  around  that  stove  to  warm  his 
little  finger. 

But  he  didn't  get  mad  about  it ;  he  just  said  to 
Bill  Stebbins  who  kept  the  store  :  "  Bill,  got  any 
raw  oysters  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Cy." 

"Well,  just  open  a  dozen  and  feed  'em  to  my 
hoss." 

Well,  Stebbins  never  was  scared  by  an  order 
from  a  man  whose  credit  was  good,  as  Cy's  was, 
so  he  opened  the  oysters  an'  took  them  out,  an' 
the  whole  crowd  followed  to  see  a  horse  eat 
oysters.  Then  Cy  picked  out  the  best  seat  near 
the  stove  and  dropped  into  it  as  if  he  had  come 
to  stay,  as  he  had. 

Pretty  soon  the  crowd  came  back,  and  the 
storekeeper  said  :  "  Why,  Cy,  your  hoss  won't 
eat  them  oysters." 

"  Won't  he  ?  Well,  then,  bring  'em  here  an' 
I'll  eat  'em  myself." 

When  Charley  Evans  and  Bill  Hoey  traveled 
together,  they  had  no  end  of  good-natured  banter 
between  them. 

Once  when  Hoey  saw  Evans  mixing  lemon 
juice  and  water  for  a  gargle,  he  asked  :  "  What 
are  you  doing  that  for,  Charley  ?  " 

76 


ACTORS'  JOKES 

"  Oh,  for  my  singing." 

"  Suppose  you  put  some  in  your  ear  ;  then 
maybe  you'll  be  able  to  find  the  key." 

While  they  were  crossing  the  ocean,  Evans 
came  on  deck  one  day  dressed  in  the  latest 
summer  fashion — duck  trousers,  straw  hat,  etc. — 
and  asked  Hoey  :  "  How  do  you  like  me,  Bill  ?  " 

"  Well,  all  you  need  to  do  now  is  to  have  your 
ears  pierced,"  was  the  reply. 

At  the  ship's  table  the  waiter  asked  Hoey  what 
he  would  have. 

"  Koast  beef." 

"  How  shall  I  cut  it,  sir  ?  " 

"  By  the  ship's  chart." 

Evans  always  carried  the  money  for  both,  and 
the  two  men  had  a  fancy  for  wearing  trousers  of 
the  same  material,  though  of  different  sizes,  for 
Evans  was  slighter  than  his  partner.  One  day 
Hoey  fell  on  hard  luck.  He  had  been  to  the 
Derby  races,  where  a  pickpocket  relieved  him  of 
his  watch  and  his  money  too.  They  were  to 
start  for  America  next  morning,  and  Evans  had 
plenty  of  money  and  return  tickets  also,  yet  Hoey 
was  so  cut  up  by  his  losses  that  he  went  to  bed 
early  and  tried  to  drop  asleep.  This  did  not 
work,  so  after  tossing  for  several  hours,  by  which 
time  Evans  had  retired,  he  got  up  and  began  to 
dress  himself.  But  to  his  horror  his  figure 
seemed  to  have  swelled  in  the  night. 

77 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

This  was  the  last  straw ;  he  woke  his  partner 
and  with  tears  in  his  eyes  and  his  voice  too,  he 
said  :  "  Charley,  beside  all  my  hard  luck  to-day 
I'm  getting  the  dropsy." 

"  Bill,"  said  Evans  after  a  glance,  "  go  into  the 
other  room  and  take  off  my  pants  1 " 

A  certain  diamond  broker  called  on  the  late 
Charles  Hoyt  with  a  large  bill. 

"While  Hoyt  was  drawing  a  check  the  broker 
said:  "Charley,  a  dear  friend  of  mine  was 
robbed  yesterday." 

"  Is  that  so  ?    Why,  what  did  you  sell  him  ?  " 

The  English  stage  is  as  full  of  jokers  as  ours. 
Wilson  Barrett  tells  that  at  a  "  First  night "  his 
play  did  not  seem  to  suit  the  pit,  so  he  came 
before  the  curtain  at  the  end  of  one  act  and 
asked  what  was  the  matter.  The  "  Gods  "  have 
great  freedom  in  English  theatres,  so  there  was 
much  talk  across  the  footlights  between  the  stage 
and  the  audience ;  but  it  was  stopped  abruptly  by 
a  voice  that  said : 

"  Oh,  go  on,  Wilson !  This  ain't  no  bloomin' 
debatin'  society." 

W.  S.  Gilbert,  although  not  an  actor,  is  a  play 
wright  and  extremely  critical.  A  London  favor 
ite  had  the  best  part  in  one  of  Gilbert's  pieces, 
but  the  author  thought  him  slow.  Going  behind 
the  scenes  after  the  performance,  Gilbert  noted 
that  the  actor's  brow  was  perspiring,  so  he  said : 

78 


ACTOES'  JOKES 

"Well,  at  all  events,  your  skin  has  been 
acting." 

Gilbert  can  give  evasive  answers  that  cut  like 
a  knife.  A  player  of  the  title  part  of  Hamlet 
asked  Gilbert's  opinion  of  the  performance. 

"  You  are  funny,  without  being  vulgar,"  was 
the  reply. 

Forbes  Kobertson,  who  essayed  the  same 
part,  asked  Gilbert :  "  What  do  you  think  of 
Hamlet?" 

Gilbert  answered  :  "  Wonderful  play,  old  man ; 
most  wonderful  play  ever  written." 

E.  S.  Willard  tells  the  following  story  of 
Charles  Glenny,  of  Irving's  Lyceum  Company. 
"  The  Merchant  of  Venice  "  was  in  rehearsal,  and 
Glenny  did  not  repeat  the  lines :  "  Take  me  to 
the  gallows,  not  to  the  font "  to  the  liking  of 
Irving,  so  the  latter  said  in  the  kindly  manner  he 
always  maintained  at  rehearsals  : 

"  No,  no,  Mr.  Glenny  ;  not  that  way.  Walk 
over  and  touch  me,  and  say :  '  Take  me  to  the 
gallows,  not  to  the  font.'  The  line  was  re 
hearsed  several  times,  but  unsuccessfully. 

Finally  Irving  became  discouraged  and  said : 
"  Ah,  well ;  touch  me." 

Irving  witnessed  Richard  Mansfield's  per 
formance  of  "  Richard  III,"  in  London,  and  by 
invitation  went  back  to  see  the  actor  in  his 
dressing-room.  Mansfield  had  been  almost  ex- 

79 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

hausted,  and  was  fanning  himself,  but  Irving's 
approach  revived  him,  and  natural  anticipation 
of  a  compliment  from  so  exalted  a  source  was 
absolutely  stimulating. 

But  for  the  time  being  all  Irving  did  was  to 
slap  Mansfield  playfully  on  the  back  and  exclaim 
in  the  inimitable  Irving  tone:  "Aha?  You 
sweat ! " 


"Aha!    You  Sweat!" 


80 


VI 

A  SUNNY  OLD  CITY 

Some  Aspects  of  Philadelphia. — Fun  in  a  Hospital, — "The 
Cripple's  Palace." — An  Invalid's  Success  in  Making  Other 
Invalids  Laugh. — Fights  for  the  Fun  of  Fighting. — My 
Rival  Friends.— Boys  Will  Be  Boys.— Cast  Out  of  Church. 
— A  Startling  Recognition. — Some  Pleasures  of  Attending 
Funerals. — How  I  Claimed  the  Protection  of  the  American 
Flag. 

A  HOSPITAL  is  not  a  place  that  any  one 
would  visit  if  he  were  in  search  of  jol 
lity,  yet  some  of  the  merriest  hours  of 
my  life  were  spent,  some  years  ago,  in  the  Na 
tional  Surgical  Institute  of  Philadelphia.  I  was 
one  of  about  three  hundred  people,  of  all  ages, 
sizes  and  dispositions,  who  were  under  treatment 
for  physical  defects.  Most  of  us  were  practically 
crippled,  a  condition  which  is  not  generally  re 
garded  to  be  conductive  of  hilarity,  yet  many  of 
us  had  lots  of  fun,  and  all  of  it  was  made  by 
ourselves.  I  was  one  of  the  luckiest  of  the  lot, 
for  Mother  Nature  had  endowed  me  with  a 
faculty  for  finding  sunshine  everywhere. 

Yet  part  of  my  treatment  was  to  lie  in  bed, 
locked  in  braces,  for  hours  every  day,  and  each 
of  these  hours  seemed  to  be  several  thousand 

81 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

minutes  long.  So  many  other  boys  were  under 
similar  treatment  that  an  attendant,  named  Joe, 
was  kept  busy  in  merely  taking  off  our  appliances. 
These  were  locked,  for  between  pain  and  the  res- 
tiveness  peculiar  to  boys,  we  would  have  removed 
them  for  ourselves  or  for  one  another.  Joe  was 
not  a  beauty,  yet  I  distinctly  remember  recalling 
his  appearance  was  that  of  an  angel  of  light,  for 
I  best  remember  him  in  the  act  of  loosening  my 
braces.  Whenever  the  surgeon  in  charge  was 
absent,  we  would  beg  Joe  to  unlock  us  for  "  Just 
five  minutes — just  a  minute  " — and  sometimes  he 
would  yield,  after  making  us  promise  solemnly 
not  to  tell  the  doctor.  The  result  recalls  the 
story  of  the  old  darky  who  was  seen  to  hammer 
his  thumb  at  intervals.  When  asked  why  he  did 
it,  he  replied, 

"  Kase  it  feels  so  good  when  I  stop  !  " 
To  keep  from  thinking  of  my  pain  and  help 
lessness,  I  kept  looking  about  me  for  something 
to  laugh  at,  and  it  was  a  rare  day  on  which  I 
failed  to  find  it.  When  there  came  such  a  day,  I 
had  only  to  close  my  eyes  and  look  backward  a 
few  months  or  years ;  I  was  sure  to  recall  some 
thing  funny.  Then  I  would  laugh.  Some  other 
sufferer  would  ask  what  was  amusing  me,  and 
when  I  told  him  he  would  also  laugh,  some  one 
would  hear  him  and  the  story  would  have  to  be 
repeated.  Soon  the  word  got  about  the  building 

82 


A  SUNNY  OLD  CITY 

that  there  was  a  little  fellow  in  one  of  the  rooms 
who  was  always  laughing  to  himself,  or  making 
others  laugh,  so  all  the  boys  insisted  on  being 
"  let  in  on  the  ground  floor  " — which  in  my  case 
was  the  fourth  floor.  I  made  no  objection  ;  was 
there  ever  a  man  so  modest  that  he  didn't  like 
listeners  when  he  had  anything  to  say  ?  So  it 
soon  became  the  custom  of  all  the  boys  who  were 
not  absolutely  bound  to  their  beds  to  congregate 
in  my  room,  which  would  have  comfortably  held, 
not  more  than  a  dozen.  Yet  daily  I  had  fifty  or 
more  around  me;  the  earlier  comers  filled  the 
chairs,  later  arrivals  sprawled  or  curled  on  my 
bed,  still  later  ones  sat  on  the  headboard  and 
footboard,  the  floor  accommodated  others  until  it 
was  packed,  and  the  belated  ones  stowed  them 
selves  in  the  hall,  within  hearing  distance. 

'Twas  a  hard  trip  for  some  of  them,  poor  fel 
lows,  for  there  were  not  enough  attendants  to 
carry  them  all,  and  three  flights  of  stairs  are  a 
hard  climb  for  cripples.  So,  to  prevent  unneces 
sary  pain  while  I  was  outdoors  taking  the  air,  I 
hung  a  small  American  flag  over  the  stair  rail 
opposite  my  door,  whenever  I  was  in  ;  this  could 
be  seen  from  any  of  the  lower  halls.  I  learned 
afterward  that  it  was  the  custom  of  royalty  and 
other  exalted  personages  to  display  a  flag  when 
they  were  "at  home,"  but  this  did  not  frighten 
me ;  in  memory  of  those  hospital  days,  I  always 

83 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

display  a  flag  at  my  window  when  I  am  able  to 
see  my  friends. 

Boys  are  as  fond  as  Irishmen  of  fighting  for 
the  mere  fun  of  it,  so  we  got  a  lot  of  laughing 
out  of  fist  fights  between  some  of  the  patients. 
The  most  popular  contestants  were  Gott  Dewey 
from  Elmira,  N.  Y.,  and  a  son  of  Sheriff  Wright 
of  Philadelphia.  Both  were  seriously  afflicted, 
though  they  seemed  not  to  know  it.  Wright  was 
a  cross-eyed  paralytic,  while  Dewey  had  St. 
Vitus's  dance  and  was  so  badly  paralyzed  that  he 
had  no  control  over  his  natural  means  of  locomo 
tion.  He  could  not  even  talk  intelligibly,  yet  he 
had  an  intellect  that  impressed  me  deeply,  even 
at  that  early  day.  He  could  cope  with  the  hard 
est  mathematical  problem  that  any  could  offer ; 
he  read  much  and  his  taste  in  literature  and 
everything  else  was  distinct  and  refined. 

Yet,  being  still  a  boy,  he  enjoyed  a  fight,  and 
as  he  and  Wright  were  naturally  antipathetic  by 
temperament,  they  were  always  ready  for  a  set-to. 
These  affairs  were  entirely  harmless,  for  neither 
could  hit  straighter  than  a  girl  can  throw  a  stone. 
The  result  of  their  efforts  was  "  the  humor  of  the 
unexpected,"  and  it  amused  us  so  greatly  that  we 
never  noticed  the  pathetic  side  of  it. 

These  two  boys  did  me  the  honor  to  become 
very  fond  of  me ;  why  they  did  it,  I  don't  know, 
unless  because  I  never  did  anything  in  particular 

84 


A  SUNNY  OLD  CITY 

for  Wright,  yet  be  was  always  teasing  Dewey, 
who  was  quite  proud  and  self-reliant,  and  insisted 
upon  doing  everything  for  himself.  That  he 
might  serve  himself  at  table,  a  little  elevator  was 
made  for  his  convenience,  and  I  was  mischievous 
enough  to  disarrange  the  machinery  so  that  food 
intended  for  his  mouth  should  reach  his  ear.  Yet 
he  loved  me  dearly  and  dashed  at  me  affection 
ately  though  erratically  whenever  we  met.  I 
was  unable  to  get  about  without  crutches,  so  I 
frequently  fell ;  if  Dewey  were  in  sight,  he  would 
hurry  to  my  assistance,  with  disastrous  results  to 
both  of  us ;  often  Wright  would  offer  assistance 
at  the  same  time  and  the  two  would  fall  over 
each  other  and  me  and  attempt  to  "  fight  it  out," 
while  I  would  become  helpless  with  laughter  and 
the  three  of  us  would  lie  in  a  heap,  until  some  at 
tendant  would  separate  the  warriors  and  set  me 
on  my  feet  and  crutches. 

One  rule  of  the  Institute  was  that  no  patients 
were  to  leave  the  building  on  Sunday — the  day 
on  which  the  physicians  and  attendants  got  most 
liberty.  To  enforce  this  rule  there  was  a  door 
keeper  named  Smith.  He  was  a  dwarf,  hardly 
four  feet  high,  who,  on  Sunday  would  curl  up  in 
a  box  under  his  desk  and  wish  he  could  have  a 
mouthful  or  more  of  whiskey,  although  a  little 
of  it  would  put  him  sound  asleep  and  leave  the 
door  unguarded  against  any  one  who  cared  to  go 

8* 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

out.     How  whiskey  got  into  the  Institute  to  be 
used  upon  Smith,  I  don't  know. 

I  recall  a  Sunday  when  we  three,  Dewey, 
Wright  and  I,  conceived  the  idea  of  going  to 
church.  There  was  a  church  directly  across  the 
street,  so  we  started  for  it  a  few  moments  after 
throwing  a  sop  of  whiskey  to  our  Cerberus.  We 
had  several  mishaps  on  the  way,  due  to  my 
friend's  well-meant  but  misdirected  efforts  to  as 
sist  me,  but  passers-by  kindly  put  us  on  our  feet 
again.  We  got  into  church  quite  early,  and 
passed  up  the  aisle  and  entered  the  front  pew, 
under  the  very  droppings  of  the  sanctuary. 
Soon  after  the  service  began  a  young  lady  at  our 
left  compelled  our  attention  by  eyeing  us  in 
tently  ;  apparently  she  thought  us  the  newest 
thing  in  "  The  Three  Graces  "  line.  Something 
moved  me  to  nudge  Dewey  and  tell  him  to  stop 
flirting  with  that  girl.  Apparently  he  thought  I 
was  trying  to  be  funny,  for  he  began  laughing  in 
his  peculiar  laugh,  which  was  a  sputter,  with 
which  no  one  familiar  with  it  could  help  being 
amused,  so  Wright  laughed  too,  after  which  it 
was  impossible  for  me  to  keep  quiet.  We  really 
were  reverent  little  chaps,  so  we  tried  hard  to 
suppress  ourselves,  but — boys  will  be  boys.  Sud 
denly  we  three  exploded  as  one ;  we  could  hear 
tittering  around  us,  the  minister  stopped  in  the 
middle  of  an  eloquent  period,  raised  his  glasses, 

86 


A  SUNNY  OLD  CITY 

and  I  shall  never  forget  his  pained  expression  of 
astonishment  as  he  caught  sight  of  us  for  the 
first  time.  Suddenly  there  appeared  a  platoon 
of  deacons,  two  of  whom  attached  themselves  to 
each  of  us,  and  we  were  conducted  down  the 
aisle,  facing  an  array  of  hymn-books,  behind 
which  the  congregation  were  trying  to  hide  their 
own  laughter.  The  next  day  the  church  sent  the 
Institute  a  polite  but  earnest  request  that  no 


"There  appeared  a  Platoon  of  Deacons." 

more  cripples  be  allowed  to  attend  service  in  that 
church. 

After  leaving  the  Institute  I  lost  sight  of 
Dewey,  though  I  never  forgot  his  hearty  way  of 
greeting  me  whenever  he  met  me,  a  heartiness 
which  caused  him  to  tumble  all  over  me  and 
compel  me  to  put  out  my  arm  to  save  him  from 
falling.  Five  years  ago  on  reaching  a  Philadel- 

87 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STREET 

phia  church  whose  members  I  had  been  engaged 
to  "  entertain,"  the  committee  of  arrangements 
met  me  and  said  they  wished  to  prepare  me  for 
the  unusual  appearance  of  their  chairman.  He 
had  endowed  the  church,  they  told  me,  and  was 
almost  idolized  by  the  people  for  his  many  noble 
qualities  of  head  and  heart,  yet  he  was  a  para 
lytic  and  his  visage  was  shocking  at  first  sight. 
Suddenly  the  chairman  himself  entered  the  room 
and  I  saw  my  old  friend  Gott  Dewey.  At  the 
same  instant  he  recognized  me ;  he  dashed  at  me 
in  his  old  way ;  my  arm  instinctively  caught  him 
as  it  had  done  hundreds  of  times  before ;  the 
committee  supposing  I  was  frightened,  en 
deavored  to  separate  us,  but  we  weren't  easy  to 
handle,  so  there  was  a  close  mix  up,  while,  in 
which,  the  dear  old  boy  with  tears  streaming 
down  his  cheeks,  endeavored  to  explain  that  we 
were  fast  friends.  Then  he  told  me  he  had  read 
my  book  "  People  I've  Smiled  With,"  and  been 
so  greatly  amused  by  it  that  he  had  suggested 
my  engagement  to  entertain  his  church  people, 
yet  he  had  never  imagined  I  was  the  Wilder  boy 
of  "  The  Cripple's  Palace." 

It  took  him  fifteen  minutes  to  say  all  this  and 
conquer  his  emotion ;  then  he  wanted  to  go  on 
the  platform  and  tell  his  people  about  me  and* 
what  old  friends  we  were.  I  realized  that  if  he 
were  to  do  it,  I  would  never  reach  the  platform 

88 


A  SUNNY  OLD  CITY 

myself,  so  I  persuaded  him  to  let  me  tell  them 
the  story.  He  consented,  but  insisted  on  ac 
companying  me,  and  tearfully  confirming  every 
thing  I  said,  so  with  him  beside  me,  for  "  local 
color,"  I  got  along  so  well  that  there  was  not  a 
dry  eye  in  the  house.  It  was  an  inexpressible 
relief  to  me  to  set  everybody  laughing  afterward, 
for  I  never  needed  a  "  bracing  up  "  more  than  on 
that  night. 

Dewey  had  always  longed  to  be  a  lawyer  and 
I  learned  that  he  had  succeeded  in  gratifying 
this  ambition,  in  spite  of  his  heavy  physical 
handicap :  he  became  so  able  as  a  counselor  that 
he  gained  a  large  practice  and  was  specially 
skilful  at  preparing  briefs  for  his  partner  to  take 
into  court.  He  was  held  in  high  honor  for  his 
charitable  work  and  for  many  years  led  a  suc 
cessful,  useful  and  happy  life ;  but  not  long  after 
our  unexpected  meeting  he  was  complained  of  as 
a  public  nuisance  and  was  actually  arrested  on 
this  charge.  His  appearance  and  manner  were 
really  terrifying  to  people  that  did  not  know 
him,  for  in  trying  to  avoid  collision  with 
passers-by  his  lack  of  control  often  caused  him  to 
act  as  if  about  to  strike.  The  magistrate,  before 
whom  he  was  arraigned  expressed  extreme  sym 
pathy,  but  insisted  that  he  keep  out  of  the  streets 
except  when  in  a  carriage  or  when  properly  at 
tended,  and  poor  Dewey  took  the  affair  so  deeply 

89 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

to  heart,  that  afterward  he  kept  himself  almost 
secluded  from  the  world. 

Mention  of  Philadelphia  almost  always  sug 
gests  graveyards  to  me,  not  that  the  city  prides 
itself  on  being  "  well  laid-out,"  but  because  I 
have  visited  all  its  cemeteries  many  times. 
When  I  left  the  Surgical  Institute  I  boarded 
with  a  woman  whose  husband  kept  a  large 
livery  stable.  I  made  friends  of  the  drivers,  and, 
as  I  was  still  under  treatment  and  could  not  get 
about  much,  they  would  kindly  give  me  an  air 
ing,  whenever  they  were  engaged  for  funerals, 
which  was  almost  daily.  This  often  meant  an  all 
day  trip ;  my  motherly  landlady  would  put  up  a 
substantial  lunch  for  me  and  the  drivers  granted 
me  special  privileges ;  that  is,  I  was  generally 
taken  on  the  seat  of  the  driver  of  the  carriage 
which  followed  the  hearse.  The  one  that  "  car 
ried  the  criers,"  to  use  the  stable  parlance.  It 
would  not  seem  a  cheerful  way  of  spending  a 
day,  but  I  was  always  very  much  alive,  and  the 
drivers  were  as  cheerful  as  if  going  to  a  wedding, 
and,  while  the  ceremony  at  the  grave  was  in 
progress,  I  ate  my  lunch  with  the  hunger  sauce 
that  a  long  drive  always  supplies,  and  in  summer 
I  could  generally  find  some  flowers  in  the  path 
to  take  home  to  my  landlady.  Besides,  some  of 
the  cemeteries  were  so  well  kept  that  they  were 
as  sightly  as  gardens,  which  reminds  me  of  a 

90 


A  SUNNY  OLD  CITY 

story  that  I  once  inflicted  on  the  Clover  Club  of 
Philadelphia,  as  follows : 

"  While  dining  at  my  hotel  yesterday,  I  noticed 
that  the  water  looked  muddy,  so  I  complained  to 
the  waiter.  He  admitted  that  it  looked  bad, 
but  said  it  was  really  very  good  water. 


"He  Said  it  was  Very  Good  Water." 

"  *  But,'  I  continued,  '  they  tell  me  that  the 
water  here  passes  through  a  graveyard  (Laurel 
Hill  Cemetery)  before  reaching  the  people.' 

"  '  That's  right,  sir,'  the  waiter  replied.  '  But 
it's  a  first-class  graveyard  ;  only  the  best  people 
are  buried  there.'  " 

I  have  traveled  much  in  foreign  countries, 
but  Philadelphia  is  the  only  place  in  which  I 
was  compelled  to  beg  the  protection  of  the 
American  flag.  I  had  been  engaged  by  Mr. 

91 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

John  Wanamaker  to  "say  something"  to  his 
great  Sunday-school  on  two  consecutive  even 
ings.  Being  a  New  Yorker,  I  did  not  care  to 
spend  the  intervening  hours  in  Philadelphia,  so 
after  leaving  the  platform  the  first  evening,  I 
took  the  ten  o'clock  train  for  home.  As  haste 
was  necessary,  I  merely  changed  my  evening 
coat  and  vest  for  street  clothes.  In  New  York 
next  day,  I  changed  my  black  trousers  for  gray, 
attended  to  so  much  business  that  I  had  to  take 
a  late  afternoon  train,  and  did  not  realize  until 
it  was  almost  time  to  go  on  the  platform,  in  a 
"  swallow-tail  "  coat  that  I  had  no  black  trousers. 
Worse  still  my  figure  was  such  that  I  could  not 
be  fitted  from  any  clothing  store  in  the  city. 
For  a  moment  my  invention  was  at  a  standstill, 
but  the  people  were  not,  and  the  hall  was  filling 
rapidly.  I  consulted  the  committee  hastily,  and 
though  they  were  greatly  amused  by  my  sug 
gestion,  they  acted  upon  it  promptly:  they 
moved  a  table  to  the  centre  of  the  platform, 
draped  it  with  the  stars  and  stripes,  and  all  the 
people  on  the  platform  arranged  themselves,  so 
that  I  could  be  unseen  as  I  passed  behind  them 
to  the  table,  where  only  my  coat  and  vest  could 
be  seen,  the  objectionable  trousers  being  hidden 
by  my  country's  flag. 

Small  wonder  that  I   have  a  merry  remem 
brance  of  Philadelphia. 

92 


VII 

MY  FIRST  TRIP  TO  LONDON 

Large  Hopes  vs.  Small  Means. — At  the  Savage  Club.— My  First 
Engagement.— Within  an  Ace  of  Losing  It. — Alone  in  a 
Crowd. — A  Friendly  Face  to  the  Rescue. — The  New  York 
Welcome  to  a  Fine  Fellow. — One  English  Way  With 
Jokes. — People  Who  are  Slow  to  Laugh. — Disturbing  Ele 
ments. — Cold  Audiences. — Following  a  Suicide. 

WHEN  first  I  visited  London  I  carried 
large  hopes  and  a  small  purse  and  the 
latter  became  so  much  smaller  in  the 
course  of  time,  that  I  had  to  live  on  next  to  noth 
ing;  to  be  exact,  I  restricted  myself  to  fifty  cents 
a  day.  For  seventy-five  cents  a  week  I  had  a 
little  room  in  Tottenham  Court  Road — a  very 
narrow-minded  room  indeed,  with  furnishings  to 
match.  Cold,  damp  weather  was  the  only  guest 
or  companion  I  had,  and  the  room's  carpet 
served  two  purposes ;  it  covered  the  floor  by  day 
and  the  bed  at  night.  From  the  tiny  window 
there  was  a  long  vista  of  chimney-pots,  which, 
next  to  an  array  of  ready-made  coffins,  offer  as 
disquieting  a  spectacle  as  a  homesick  boy  can 
gaze  upon.  The  boy  Chatterton  came  to  my 
mind  many  times  in  those  days,  and  although  I 

93 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

hoped  his  fate  would  not  be  mine,  I  nevertheless 
learned  at  times  how  annoying  hunger  may  be 
when  it  passes  the  point  of  anticipation  of  "  a 
square  meal." 

One  treasure  did  much  to  sustain  me  ;  it  was  a 
card,  given  me  by  an  American  friend  before  I 
left  home,  introducing  me  to  the  Savage  Club, 
which  is  similar  to  the  Lotos  Club  of  New  York. 
I  had  the  freedom  of  the  Savage  at  all  times,  and 
was  allowed  to  have  my  letters  addressed  there 
— a  privilege  which  literally  "saved  my  face," 
for  I  would  never  have  dared  to  pose  as  an  enter 
tainer  if  my  address  had  been  Tottenham  Court 
Koad.  I  had  good  clothes  and  I  kept  a  stiff 
upper  lip,  so  no  member  of  the  club  knew  of  my 
financial  straits.  I  was  careful  to  refrain  from 
forcing  myself  upon  any  of  the  club  members 
who  had  been  so  kind  as  to  notice  me,  yet  dinner 
invitations  from  some  of  these  good  fellows  were 
all  that  saved  my  slender  bank  balance  from 
extinction. 

Despite  my  own  economy  and  the  hospitality 
of  others  there  came  a  day  when  Melancholy — 
with  a  large  M, — threatened  to  mark  me  for  her 
own,  for  my  sole  assets,  excepting  my  clothing, 
were  six  dollars  and  my  return  ticket ;  the  latter 
I  could  not  convert  into  cash  without  burning  my 
bridge  behind  me — and  the  Atlantic  is  too  wide 
for  a  return  trip  by  raft.  Just  as  this  crisis  had 

94 


MY  FIEST  TEIP  TO  LONDON 

made  me  as  miserable  as  any  man  could  be,  I  re 
ceived  the  following  dispatch  from  a  club  mem 
ber  who  probably  had  been  present  at  some  of 
the  volunteer  entertainments  I  had  given  at  the 
Savage. 

"  What  are  your  terms  ?  Come  to-night ;  No.  5 
Princess  Gate." 

I  quickly  wired  back:  "Will  come.  Terms 
ten  guineas." 

For  the  remainder  of  the  day  I  stayed  away 
from  the  club,  and  tormented  myself  with  fears 
that  I  had  named  too  high  a  price,  though  I  had 
always  believed  there  was  wisdom  in  Emerson's 
advice — "Hitch  your  wagon  to  a  star."  I  re 
solved  to  go  that  night  to  5  Princess  Gate ;  then, 
if  they  had  canceled  the  engagement,  I  could 
honestly  say  I  had  not  received  notice. 

In  the  evening  I  made  a  careful  toilet,  using 
my  last  bit  of  clean  linen,  and  took  a  twopenny 
'bus  to  my  destination.  The  powdered  footman 
who  opened  the  door  said  he  would  bring  his 
Lordship's  secretary  to  see  me.  The  secretary 
came  in,  much  embarrassed,  and  said  he  had 
wired  me  that  other  arrangements  had  been 
made. 

"  I  have  been  so  busy  all  day,"  I  replied,  "  that 
I've  not  called  at  the  club ;  consequently  I  did 
not  get  your  message.  What  was  the  trouble? 
— my  terms  ?  " 

95 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

"  We  have  engaged  a  different  entertainer,"  he 
replied  evasively. 

"  But,  you  see,"  I  said,  with  my  heart  in  my 
mouth,  which  had  need  of  something  more  edi 
ble,  "your  telegram  this  morning  told  me  to 
come,  so  my  evening  is  lost.  As  I  am  here,  sup 
pose  I  go  up  and  do  what  I  can.  As  to  my  fee 
— oh,  I'm  quite  willing  to  leave  that  to  his  lord 
ship." 

Just  then  I  heard  his  lordship's  voice  saying, 
"  Come  in,  Mr.  Wilder."  He  seemed  to  have 
grasped  the  situation,  and  with  the  tact  and 


"I  told  him  many  stories  hoping  he  would  not  notice 
my  appetite." 

courtesy  which  is  never  lacking  in  English  gentle 
men,  he  quickly  made  me  feel  entirely  at  ease. 
He  also  offered  me  refreshments,  and  as  I  had 
not  dined,  I  gladly  accepted.  That  I  might  not 

96 


MY  FIEST  TEIP  TO  LONDON 

be  alone  at  table,  he  kindly  waited  with  me.  I 
told  him  many  stories,  hoping  he  would  not 
notice  my  appetite,  but  I  noticed  it  myself  so 
persistently  that  I  felt  that  his  every  glance  said 
distinctly : 

"  You  poor  little  devil,  how  hungry  you  are  ! " 
But  I  persisted ;  I  was  conscious  of  a  need  to 
be  well  fortified,  for  I  had  heard  all  sorts  of 
stories  about  entertaining  at  social  functions  in 
England — stories  of  arrays  of  old  ladies  in  low- 
necked  gowns  displaying  more  bones  than  beauty, 
— of  a  subdued  patter  of  gloved  hands  in  place  of 
real  applause — of  "the  stony  British  stare," 
which,  really,  is  never  encountered  in  society,  so 
I  felt  like  a  soldier  about  to  face  fearful  odds.  I 
was  so  wrought  upon  by  my  fears  that  when  I 
did  appear  it  seemed  to  me  that  there  was  not  in 
that  great  drawing-room  a  single  sympathetic 
face  at  which  I  might  play  ;  all  appeared  to  wear 
an  expression  which  said  : 

"  Now,  then  ; — make  us  laugh  if  you  can." 
I  began  to  feel  as  if  I  was  looking  into  the  rear 
end  of  an  ice  wagon,  but  suddenly  my  eye  found 
a  man's  face  which  filled  me  with  courage — a  face 
full  of  kindness,  humor  and  sympathy.  It  seemed 
to  say  : 

"  My  poor  boy,  you're  in  hard  luck,  and  I'm 
going  to  give  you  all  the  help  I  can.  If  there's 
an  excuse  for  a  laugh,  you're  going  to  get  it." 

97 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

My  heart  swelled  and  went  out  to  him; 
although  I  had  much  to  think  of  at  the  moment, 
business  being  business  and  I  about  to  put  my 
wedge  into  it  for  the  first  time  in  an  English 
drawing-room,  I  mentally  vowed  that  if  ever  I 
met  that  man  again  he  should  know  what  a 
tower  of  strength  he  had  been  to  me.  I "  spread 
myself,"  I  "  laid  myself  out,"  and  was  told  after 
ward  that  I  had  succeeded.  My  own  view-point 
of  success  was  reached  next  morning,  when  I  re 
ceived  his  lordship's  check. 

Several  weeks  afterward,  at  a  dinner  given  to 
Henry  Irving,  I  saw  again  the  kind  face  that  had 
been  a  world  of  encouragement  to  me.  At  the 
earliest  possible  opportunity  I  went  over  to  him 
and  said : 

"  I  want  to  thank  you  for  helping  me  at  a  very 
trying  moment." 

Through  forgetf ulness  or  modesty  he  appeared 
not  to  remember  the  affair,  so  I  detailed  the  cir 
cumstance  to  him.  He  expressed  delight  at 
having  been  of  any  service  to  me,  and  confessed 
that  he  was  a  fellow  professional,  and  could  there 
fore  imagine  my  feelings  when  first  face  to  face 
with  an  English  audience.  I  asked  him  what  he 
was  doing ;  he  replied  that  he  was  at  the  Prin 
cess  Theatre  with  Mr.  Wilson  Barrett.  I  begged 
him  to  let  me  know  his  whereabouts  whenever 
he  came  to  the  United  States,  so  that  I  might  re- 

98 


MY  FIRST  TEIP  TO  LONDON 

new  my  expressions  of  gratitude  and  be  of  any 
possible  service  to  him.  He  promised,  but  just 
as  I  was  taking  leave  of  him  it  occurred  to  me 
that  I  did  not  even  know  his  name,  so  I  asked 
for  it.  He  replied  : 

"  My  name  is  Willard — Edward  S.  Willard." 
We  became  quite  close  friends  in  the  course  of 
years,  although  Mr.  Willard  did  not  come  to 
America  until  1891.  Soon  after  his  arrival  I 
gave  a  breakfast  at  Delmonico's  in  his  honor  and 
ransacked  tjie  city  and  vicinity  for  fine  fellows 
to  meet  him.  Among  the  guests  were  Gen. 
W.  T.  Sherman,'  Col.  Eobert  G.  Ingersoll, 
George  W.  Childs,  editor  of  the  Philadelphia 
Ledger ;  Whitelaw  Reid,  editor-in-chief  of  the 
New  York  Tribune  ;  Hugh  J.  Grant,  Mayor  of 
New  York ;  Chauncey  M.  Depew,  president  of  the 
New  York  Central  Railway  Company  and  his 
secretary  Captain  Henry  Du  Val ;  Hon.  Daniel 
Dougherty,  the  most  brilliant  member  of  the 
Philadelphia  bar;  theatre  managers  Augustin 
Daly,  A.  M.  Palmer,  Frank  Sanger,  Henry  E. 
Abbey,  and  Daniel  Frohman ;  Joseph  I.  C. 
Clarke,  editor  of  the  Morning  Journal ;  Foster 
Coates,  editor  of  the  Mail  and  Express  ;  St.  Clair 
McKelway,  editor  of  the  Brooklyn  Union  ;  J.  M. 
Stoddart,  manager  of  Lippincottfs  Magazine; 
Chester  A.  Lord,  managing  editor  of  the  New 
York  Sun  ;  Bradford  Merrill,  managing  editor  of 

99 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

the  New  York  World  ;  Arthur  Bowers  managing 
editor  of  New  York  Tribune  /  Joseph  Howard, 
Jr.,  America's  most  noted  newspaper  corre 
spondent  ;  Col.  T.  P.  Ochiltree,  the  world's  most 
effective  impromptu  story  teller ;  John  Russell 
Young,  editor,  librarian  of  the  congressional 
library  and  ex-minister  to  China ;  Major  Moses 
P.  Handy,  journalist,  club  president  and  United 
States  Commissioner  to  the  Paris  exposition ;  Will 
iam  Edgar  Nye  (Bill  Nye,  the  humorist) ;  Sam 
Sothern,  brother  of  E.  H.  Sothern  the  actor ; 
W.  J.  Arkell,  manager  of  Puck  and  Leslie's 
Weekly ;  Harrison  Gray  Fiske,  editor  Dramatic 
Mirror;  Col.  W.  F.  Cody  ("Buffalo  Bill"); 
W.  J.  Florence,  the  comedian,  Henry  Watterson, 
editor  of  the  Louisville  Courier-Journal  and  also 
the  most  quoted  editor  in  America,  and  Joseph 
Hatton  the  noted  English  author. 
Toward  the  end  of  the  breakfast  I  said  : 
"  Gentlemen,  I  should  like  to  tell  you  the  story 
of  a  poor  boy  and  an  actor  and  the  kindness  the 
actor  showed  the  poor  boy."  I  then  related,  in 
the  third  person,  the  story  of  my  first  evening 
as  an  entertainer  in  London,  and  concluded  with  : 
"  Gentleman,  I  am  that  poor  boy,  and  the 
actor,  whose  kindness  I  can  never  forget,  is  our 
guest,  Mr.  Edward  S.  "Willard."  And  straight 
way  the  entire  company  rose  and  let  Willard 
know  what  they  thought  of  that  sort  of  chap. 
100 


MY  FIRST  TRIP  TO  LONDON 

After  I  had  broken  the  ice  in  London  by  Mr. 
Willard's  aid,  as  already  described,  I  got  along 
quite  swimmingly,  and  felt  so  at  ease  that  I 
imagined  I  never  could  find  myself  unable  to 
capture  whatever  audience  I  might  face.  But 
there  is  no  accounting  for  audiences ;  occa 
sionally  they  take  an  entertainer  right  to  their 
hearts,  read  his  stories  in  his  face  and  have 
their  applause  ready  for  us  the  instant  the  point 
appears.  A  day  or  two  later  the  entertainer 
may  appear  before  a  lot  of  men  and  women  of 
intelligent  appearance  without  eliciting  a  smile. 
These  unaccountable  differences  are  not  peculiar 
to  either  England  or  America.  Every  summer 
when  I  revisit  England,  some  old  acquaintance 
is  sure  to  say,  "Mr.  Wilder,  those  stories  you 
told  last  year  are  awfully  funny."  It  has  really 
taken  him  about  a  year  to  get  at  the  points  of 
the  various  tales ;  he  doesn't  lack  appreciation 
of  humor,  but  he  is  so  accustomed  to  having  it 
served  in  only  one  way  that  he  is  puzzled  when 
it  appears  in  a  new  form.  One  day  I  told  an 
English  audience  about  New  York's  fire  depart 
ment  and  its  methods ;  great  interest  was  mani 
fested,  so  I  ventured  to  tell  the  old  story  of  a 
fire  in  an  India  rubber  factory.  This  factory 
was  a  large,  tall  building,  and  when  the  alarm 
of  fire  was  given  one  of  the  employees  found  him 
self  on  the  top  floor,  with  burning  stairs  under 
101 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STREET 


him.     His  only  chance  was  to  jump,  but  the 
pavement  was  so  far  below  his  windows  that 
death  seemed  inevitable.     Sud 
denly  he  bethought  himself  of 
the  elastic  properties  of  rubber, 
of  which  the  room   was  full ; 
could  he  envelop  himself  with 
it    he  might  jump  and   strike 
the    sidewalk    softly!      So    he 
donned  rubber  coats,  belts,  div 
ing  suits  and  everything 
else  he  could  find,  until  he 

made  the  serious  mistake 

ft     of  putting  on 

too  much,  for 
when      he 
jumped  he  re 
bounded  from 
the  pavement 
again     and 
again  and  continued 
to    do    so,  for    five 
days,  when  a  merci 
ful    police    officer 
came  along  and  shot 
the   poor  fellow  to 
save  him  from  starv 
ing  to  death. 

V 

1 A    merciful    police    officer    came 
along  and  shot  the  poor  fellow." 

102 


MY  FIBST  TEIP  TO  LONDON 

About  half  an  hour  after  I  told  this  veracious 
story  one  of  my  audience  came  to  me  and  asked  : 

"  Mr.  Wilder,  do  you  think  that  police  officer 
was  justified  ?  " 

He  was  no  worse  than  the  person,  to  be  found 
in  both  England  and  America,  who  sees  a  joke 
so  slowly  that  his  laugh  comes  in  when  there  is 
nothing  to  laugh  at.  I  recall  a  woman  of  this 
kind  whose  belated  laugh  was  so  immense  when 
it  did  arrive  that  I  stopped  and  said : 

"  Madam,  if  you  will  kindly  keep  that  laugh 
till  a  little  later,  it  will  do  me  lots  of  good." 

Some  people  who  have  been  of  my  audience 
meet  me  afterward  and  proceed  to  "  take  the 
gilt  off  of  the  gingerbread"  in  an  amusing 
fashion — if  I  am  sensible  enough  to  take  it 
that  way.  Once  I  encountered  one  of  the 
blundering  old  chaps  who  mean  well,  yet  in 
variably  make  a  break  and  he  said : 

"Mr.  Wilder,  there  was  one  very  good  thing 
among  those  stories  you  told." 

I  was  disconcerted  for  a  moment,  but  recover 
ing  myself  I  said  : 

"  Well,  that's  better  than  missing  the  point  of 
all  of  them." 

At  one  of  my  private  entertainments  I  was 

"  making  good  "  and  was  keeping  my  audience  in 

continuous  merriment,  but  my  hostess  begged  me 

to  cease  making  them  laugh  and  say  something 

103 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STREET 

sad  and  pathetic,  so  that  they  might  catch  their 
breath  and  rest  their  aching  sides. 

"  My  dear  madam,"  I  replied,  "  I  am  never  sad 
or  pathetic — I  mean,  not  intentionally." 

With  a  properly  developed  sense  of  humor  one 
can  sometimes  bring  a  laugh  out  of  disconcerting 
surroundings.  While  I  was  talking  to  an  audi 
ence  at  Flint,  Mich.,  one  night,  the  lights  sud 
denly  went  out  but  I  succeeded  in  saying : 

"  That's  too  bad.  Now  I'm  afraid  you  won't 
be  able  to  see  through  my  jokes." 

One  evening  in  the  course  of  an  engagement  I 
was  playing  at  the  Orpheum  in  Brooklyn ;  one  of 
the  boxes  was  occupied  by  a  quartette  who  had 
evidently  been  drinking  "  not  wisely,  but  too 
well."  They  were  giving  the  audience  the 
benefit  of  their  conversation  and  even  shar 
ing  the  honors  of  the  entertainment  with  the 
ladies  and  gentlemen  on  the  bill,  much  to  the 
annoyance  of  these,  for  the  disturbance  was 
interfering  seriously  with  good  work.  I  had 
been  watching  from  the  wings  and  determined 
I  would  not  submit  to  such  distraction,  so  when 
I  went  on  I  said  : 

"Ladies  and  gentlemen,  it  is  an  oft-repeated 
remark  that  it  takes  all  kinds  of  people  to  make 
a  world.  Some  people  in  an  audience  are  so  sen 
sitive  that  they  are  affected  by  any  unusual  con 
ditions  or  surroundings.  For  instance,  if  they 

104 


MY  FIRST  TRIP  TO  LONDON 

find  themselves  among  ladies  and  gentlemen 
they  are  so  elated  by  the  fact  that  their  con 
duct  has  every  appearance  of  intoxication — but 
it  really  is  not  intoxication,  though  it  may  look 
that  way."  My  performance,  which  followed 
immediately,  was  not  disturbed,  nor  was  that  of 
any  one  who  followed  me. 

Every  entertainer  knows  what  terrible  up-hill 
work  it  is  to  stand  before  a  cold  audience.  Cold 
that  effects  the  body  is  bliss  in  comparison  with 
the  awful  atmosphere  that  creeps  chillingly  into 
one's  soul  and  the  very  marrow  of  his  bones. 
How  an  audience  can  get  into  such  a  condition 
and  become  so  appalling  an  influence  passes  com 
prehension,  for  not  all  the  men  and  women  pres 
ent  can  have  become  dyspeptic  on  the  same  day, 
or  had  their  consciences  awakened  at  the  same 
hour,  or  simultaneously  "gone  broke"  or  seen 
themselves  as  others  saw  them.  Sometimes  I've 
thought  it  came  of  the  actual  atmosphere  of  the 
house,  for  there  are  theatres,  halls,  churches  and 
parlors  that  are  never  properly  aired  unless  hail 
storms  or  hoodlums  chance  to  break  the  windows. 

But  all  such  speculation  is  getting  away  from 
the  audience,  whereas  that  is  the  one  thing  the 
entertainer  daren't  do,  much  though  he  may  wish 
to.  He  is  "  stuck  "  for  a  given  period,  and  he  is 
reminded  of  trying  to  climb  slippery  mountains 
of  ice  in  the  fairy  tales  of  childhood's  sunny 
105 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

hour,  and  the  parallel  continues,  for  the  chill — 
the  reserve,  is  more  often  melted  by  some  happy 
impromptu  than  by  conscientious  work. 

I  recall  a  time  in  Pittsburg  when  I  struck  the 
afore-mentioned  Polar  current  through  no  fault 
of  my  own  or  of  the  audience.  It  was  the  cus 
tom  of  the  house  to  begin  the  evening  with  a 
play  and  follow  with  a  vaudeville  performance. 
The  play  on-  the  occasion  referred  to  was  "  Cap 
tain  Swift,"  in  which  the  hero  was  a  charming 
rascal  who  always  took  an  audience  by  the  heart, 
even  when  he  ended  the  play  by  killing  himself. 
It  was  my  misfortune  to  follow  the  play  and 
find  the  audience  in  a  very  low  state  of  mind 
which,  in  turn,  threw  a  wet  blanket  upon  me  and 
my  work.  After  laboring  a  few  minutes  I  said  : 

"  Ladies  and  gentlemen,  I've  often  followed  a 
prayer,  and  sometimes  followed  a  hearse,  but  this 
is  the  first  time  I  ever  followed  a  suicide."  This 
touch  just  tipped  the  balance — lifted  the  cloud, 
squeezed  the  water  out  of  the  blanket,  made  the 
audience  mine  and  kept  it  so  while  I  held  the 
stage. 

At  the  Orpheum  in  San  Francisco  I  was  re 
ceived  so  kindly  that  my  stay  was  extended  to 
three  weeks.  San  Francisco  audiences  are  very 
responsive,  except  on  Sunday  evenings  ;  then,  for 
some  Frisco  reason  undiscoverable  by  the  eastern 
man,  they  are  usually  cold  and  the  entertainer 
106 


MY  FIBST  TEIP  TO  LONDON 

has  to  cut  ice.  On  my  last  Sunday  evening  there 
a  section  of  Greenland's  Icy  Mountains  seemed 
to  have  come  in  collision  with  a  cold-storage 
warehouse  just  before  I  appeared,  for  the  audi 
ence  was  as  unresponsive  as  a  cart  load  of  frozen 
clams.  I  worked  over  them  a  few  moments  as 
earnestly  as  a  life-saver  over  a  person  rescued 
from  drowning,  but  to  no  avail,  so  I  stopped  and 
said  : 

"  Now  I've  got  you  nice  and  quiet,  just  have  a 
good  long  sleep  while  I  go  out  and  leave  a  call 
for  you."  Then  I  tiptoed  off  of  the  stage  so  as  not 
to  rouse  the  sleepers.  This  started  a  current  of 
warm  good  nature  ;  they  called  me  back  and  for 
the  rest  of  the  performance  there  was  perfect 
understanding  and  sympathy  between  them  and 
me. 


107 


43V 


VIII 

EXPERIENCES  IN  LONDON 

Customs  and  Climate  Very  Unlike  Our  Own. — No  Laughter  in 
Restaurants. — Clever  Cabbies. — Oddities  in  Fire-fighting. 
—The  "Rogues'  Gallery  "  in  Scotland  Yard.—"  Petticoat 
Lane." — A  Cemetery  for  Pet  Dogs. — Dogs  Who  are  Char 
acters. — The  Professional  Toast-master. — Solemn  After- 
dinner  Speakers. — An  Autograph  Table-cloth. — American 
Brides  of  English  Husbands. 

SO  many  London  customs  seem  strange  to 
an  American  that  I  venture  to  mention  a 
few  experiences  of  my  own  by  way  of 
preparation,  for  no  American  knows  when  he 
may  be  nominated  for  the  presidency  or  get  a 
chance  to  go  to  Europe. 

The  first  thing  to  impress  a  person  from  this 
108 


EXPEBIENCES  IN  LONDON 

side  of  the  Atlantic  is  the  climate,  which  is  gen 
erally  depressing  to  any  one  accustomed  to  the 
dazzling  sunshine,  brilliant  skies  and  champagne 
quality  of  our  atmosphere.  Everything  seems 
heavy  and  solemn  by  comparison,  and  life  ap 
pears  to  be  a  serious  matter  to  all  whom  one 
meets,  although  the  truth  is  that  the  English 
enjoy  life  heartily  and  give  ten  times  as  much 
attention  to  sports  and  amusements  as  we  do. 

I  went  one  day  into  a  restaurant  where  a  great 
many  people  were  dining,  yet  absolute  silence 
prevailed,  instead  of  the  buzz  of  chatter  and 
laughter  of  a  French  or  American  restaurant.  I 
asked  a  waiter, 

"  Doesn't  any  one  ever  laugh  here  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  he  replied.  "  Sometimes  we  'ave 
complaints,  sir." 

But  there  is  so  much  of  interest  in  even  the 
ordinary  street  sights  that  a  visitor  soon  forgets 
smoke,  dampness  and  gloom.  The  first  natives 
to  accost  an  American  are  the  "  cabbies,"  and 
they  are  a  never-failing  source  of  amusement  to 
me.  They  abound  in  natural  wit,  and  are  past- 
masters  of  sarcasm.  One  of  the  sharpest  bits  I 
ever  heard  was  told  about  an  old  cabby  and  one 
of  his  younger  fellows.  The  former  was  a  master 
of  whip  and  rein  ;  he  boasted  that  he  knew  every 
foot  of  London  and  declared  that  although  he  had 
been  in  many  tight  places  he  had  never  failed  to 
109 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

drive  out  smoothly.     One  day,  however,  he  lost 
control  of  his  horse  and  ran  into  a  young  cabby's 
outfit.     The  younger  man  looked  him  over  con 
descendingly,  contemptuously,  and  then  asked, 
"  Well  ?     An'  'ow  do  you  like  London  ?  " 
A  friend  of  mine  once  took  a  cab  drawn  by  an 
animal  which  was  bony  in  the  extreme.     The 
driver  was  hailed  by  the  Jehu  of  a  passing  cab  with, 
"  Oi  saiy,  Bill,  I  see  yer  goin'  to  'ave  a  new 
'orse." 

"  'Oo  told  yer  so  ?  " 

"  Wy»  I  see  y've  got  the  framework  there." 
Not  all  the  quick-tongued  cabbies  are  pro 
fessionals.  At  one  time  it  was  a  fad  of  young 
"  bloods  "  in  London  to  drive  cabs,  apparently 
for  the  purpose  of  enriching  their  slang  vocabu 
lary  by  exchanging  remarks  with  "  regulars " 
whom  they  could  provoke  into  freedom  of  speech. 
Sometimes  decently  born  and  fairly  educated 
young  men  from  the  rural  districts,  who  have 
handled  horses  at  home  and  know  no  one  in 
London  whom  they  would  be  ashamed  to  face 
from  a  driver's  seat,  try  cab-driving  as  a  business. 
They  can  hire  a  horse  and  cab  for  five  shillings  a 
day  ;  London  fares  are  small  and  some  days  they 
are  few,  but  many  men  "  tip  "  the  drivers,  espe 
cially  those  who  say  smart  things  that  appear  to 
be  impromptu,  so  amateur  cabbies  sometimes 
make  much  more  than  a  living. 
110 


EXPERIENCES  IN  LONDON 

London's  fire-fighting  service  interests  an 
American  by  its  differences  from  our  own.  The 
fire-plugs  do  not  resemble  old-fashioned  cannon, 
turned  upside  down,  as  ours  do;  they  are  so 
unnoticeable  that  their  whereabouts  must  be 
indicated  by  lamp-post  signs  like  this: — "Fire 
plug  four  feet  to  the  right  and  three  feet  to  the 
rear."  Instead  of  using  whistles,  the  London 
engines  have  a  string  of  sleigh-bells  on  one  of 
the  horses,  and  by  way  of  further  warning  the 
men  on  the  engine  keep  up  a  constant  shout  of 
"  Hoy !  Hoy  1  Hoy !  "  The  engines  do  not 
respond  as  quickly  to  an  alarm  as  ours;  it 
generally  takes  them  two  minutes  to  get  under 
way,  though  the  firemen  are  a  "  fit "  looking  lot. 
I  was  told  they  were  selected  entirely  from  ex- 
sailors  of  the  naval  service.  To  assist  the 
engines'  crews  there  are  many  auxiliaries,  who 
sleep  and  almost  live  in  small  red  houses  on 
wheels ;  these  portable  houses  are  numerous  in 
the  more  thickly  populated  portions  of  the  city, 
where  fires  are  most  likely  to  occur  and  extra 
firemen  be  needed. 

At  convenient  corners  are  kept,  also  on  wheels, 
the  portable  fire-escapes  : — mere  shafts  or  chvtes 
of  canvas  on  wooden  framework.  In  case  of  are 
in  the  upper  part  of  an  inhabited  building,  the 
top  of  the  escape  is  pushed  to  a  window,  and  the 
inmates  are  expected  to  save  themselves  by  going 
111 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

head  first  down  the  inclined  chute,  clinging  to  the 
framework  of  the  sides  to  keep  from  descending 
too  rapidly.  Of  course  in  a  city  of  lofty  apart 
ment  houses  and  "sky-scraper"  office  buildings 
such  a  contrivance  would  be  almost  useless,  but 
in  London  a  house  of  more  than  three  stories  is 
a  rarity.  "  Running  to  fires  "  is  as  popular  with 
some  Londoners  as  it  was  in  New  York  before 
fire  alarms  reached  the  dozen-a-day  mark.  The 
Duke  of  Sutherland  enjoyed  attending  fires ;  he 
would  have  his  private  carriage  follow  the 
engines,  and  frequently  he  was  accompanied  by 
the  Prince  of  "Wales. 

Scotland  Yard,  mentioned  in  every  English 
detective  story,  is  an  interesting  place  to  visit ; 
it  is  the  London  equivalent  of  our  Police  De 
partment's  "Central  Office."  I  was  shown  a 
"  Rogues'  Gallery "  there  which  was  quite  as 
large  and  appalling  as  our  own.  In  photograph 
ing  a  criminal  the  London  police  make  assurance 
doubly  sure  by  placing  a  mirror  to  catch  his 
profile,  which  is  taken,  with  his  front  face,  by  a 
single  snap.  To  be  still  more  thorough  they 
have  the  sitters  spread  his  hands  on  his  chest, 
for  hands,  being  hard  to  disguise,  are  useful  tell 
tales.  Thumb  impressions  complete  a  record 
which  the  criminal  regards  with  far  more  dis 
comfort  than  his  evil  deeds  ever  give  him. 

Petticoat  Lane  is  not  a  section  of  the  police 
112 


EXPEKIENCES  IN  LONDON 

department,  though  the  officials  wish  it  might 
be,  for  as  it  is  a  recognized  "  stand  "  of  hucksters, 
the  thieves  flock  there  to  sell  their  ill-gotten 
wares,  so  one  may  see  "  Fagins "  and  "  Artful 
Dodgers"  in  plenty.  Their  best  customers  are 
men  of  their  own  kind — thieves  with  enough  busi 
ness  sense  to  know  where  certain  kinds  of  stolen 
property  can  be  resold  to  advantage.  Jewelry 
is  the  principal  stock-in-trade,  and  it  is  carried  in 
small  boxes,  resembling  cigar-boxes,  hung  from 
the  neck.  "When  the  coast  is  clear  of  policemen, 
the  thieves  lift  the  lid  long  enough  for  a  peep  at 
the  contents.  I  was  piloted  through  "  the  lane  " 
by  a  special  officer  from  Scotland  Yard  and  in 
an  underground  passage  we  came  upon  a  score 
or  more  of  the  light-fingered  gentry.  Unfor 
tunately  the  officer  was  recognized,  word  was 
passed  down  the  line,  everything  that  might 
have  aroused  suspicion  was  secreted  and  the 
entire  crowd  gazed  at  us  with  an  affected  inno 
cence  which  was  transparent  enough  to  be 
laughable. 

The  legitimate  trades  in  Petticoat  Lane  are 
more  interesting  to  an  American,  for  they  have 
some  business  ways  which  are  amusing — even 
startling.  An  orange-dealer  will  drop  his  fruit 
in  hot  water  once  in  a  while ;  this  makes  it  swell 
to  almost  twice  its  natural  size  and  look  smooth 
and  glossy.  The  next  wagon  to  the  orange  man 
113 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

may  be  full  of  second-hand  clothing ;  the  dealer 
will  not  allow  a  would-be  purchaser  to  "  try  on  " 
a  coat  or  vest,  for  fear  he  may  run  away  with 
it,  but  he  will  put  the  garment  on  his  own  wife 
for  inspection ;  the  result  is  often  a  picture  funny 
enough  to  print.  Theatrical  people  often  go 
there  for  .costumes  for  "  character  "  parts ;  ap 
parently  some  kinds  of  English  clothing  last 
forever,  for  in  Petticoat  Lane  may  be  seen 
fabrics  and  fashions  and  trimmings  that  look 
antiquated  enough  to  have  come  over  with 
"William  the  Conqueror.  Some  of  the  hucksters' 
carts  are  decorated  with  suggestive  signs,  such 
as,  "  Oh,  mother,  how  cheap  these  eggs  are !  " 

In  a  corner  of  Hyde  Park  I  chanced  to  see  a 
little  graveyard  ;  everything  about  it  was  little. 
The  mounds  were  small,  the  headstones  tiny,  and 
little  children  were  decorating  the  graves  with 
flowers.  On  inquiry  I  learned  that  it  was  a 
dogs'  cemetery,  but  instead  of  laughing  I  was 
touched  by  the  mental  picture  of  heavy-hearted 
boys  and  girls  going  there  with  floral  tributes  to 
departed  playfellows.  A  little  girl  who  was 
passing  noted  that  one  grave  was  bare,  and  I 
heard  her  say  to  her  nurse : 

"That  must  have  been  a  bad  doggie  buried 
there." 

"  Why  ?  "  the  nurse  inquired. 

"  Because  he  has  no  flowers  on  his  grave." 
114 


EXPEKIENCES  IN  LONDON 

Almost  every  part  of  London  has  its  homely 
"  character."  Near  St.  Martin's  Lane,  off  Char 
ing  Cross,  can  be  seen  every  day  a  blind  sailor 
who  sits  knitting  small  fishing-nets.  In  front  of 
him  sits  his  Irish  terrier  with  a  cup  in  his  mouth, 
and  passers-by  amuse  themselves  by  throwing 
pennies  for  the  dog  to  catch  in  his  cup,  as  he 
always  does.  When  he  has  caught  several  he 
empties  the  cup  into  his  owner's  hand  and  re 
turns  to  business  at  the  old  stand.  This  goes  on 
till  evening,  when  the  dog  guides  his  owner 
home  through  the  crowded  streets. 

One  interesting  London  dog  is  called  Nelson,  be 
cause  he  accidentally  lost  a  leg  at  the  base  of  the 
Nelson  column  in  Trafalgar  Square.  He  makes  his 
home  in  Seven  Dials,  where  he  begs  for  a  living, 
and  gets  many  pennies  from  his  admirers.  In 
stead  of  giving  the  money  to  any  one  he  hides  it ; 
whenever  he  is  hungry  he  goes  to  his  treasury, 
gets  a  coin  and  takes  it  to  a  butcher  or  baker ;  he 
knows,  too,  how  much  he  should  get  in  return 
and  he  will  not  leave  the  shop  till  he  has  received 
full  value  for  his  money. 

The  professional  toast-master  is  a  London  in 
stitution  that  America  has  not  adopted.  His 
services  are  required  at  the  cost  of  a  sovereign,  at 
every  public  dinner,  and  his  qualifications  are 
pomposity  and  a  loud,  deep,  resonant  voice. 
Around  his  neck  he  wears  a  big  silver  chain  from 
115 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

which  hangs  a  silver  plate  inscribed  T.  M.,  and 
when  he  exclaims,  "  We  will  drink  a  bumper  to 
'Is  Gracious  Majesty  the  King,"  it  is  with  a  voice 
that  suggests  an  earthquake  announcing  its  exit 
from  the  bowels  of  the  earth.  After  the  presid 
ing  officer  has  indulged  in  the  usually  introduc 
tory  and  airy  persiflage,  it  is  the  duty  of  the 


"  'Is  Gracious  Majesty  the  King  ! " 

T.  M.  to  introduce  the  speaker,  which  he  does  with 
a  sweep  of  his  arm  that  is  expected  to  subdue  any 
noisy  applause  by  the  guests. 

English  after-dinner  speakers  have  little  or  no 
humor,  but  they  are  extremely  earnest  in  their 
remarks.  They  incline  more  to  argument  than 
amusement.  Occasionally  one  will  indulge  in  a 
pun  which  has  the  sanctity  of  long  usage — a  pun 
116 


EXPERIENCES  IN  LONDON 

that  an  American  could  not  get  off  without  a 
blush,  and  a  turn  of  his  face  to  the  wall,  but  the 
hearers  like  it,  so  no  one  else  should  complain. 
The  English  recognize  and  admit  the  American's 
superiority  as  an  after-dinner  speaker.  I  heard 
Mr.  Beerbohm  Tree  say,  in  the  course  of  a  speech 
at  the  Clover  Club  (Philadelphia), 

"  Englishmen  can  handle  horses  and  Americans 
their  tongues." 

But  there  are  exceptions  to  every  rule,  even  re 
garding  dinners  and  after-dinner  speaking.  Lon 
don  contains  some  men  as  clever  and  witty  as  any 
in  the  world,  and  when  these  fine  fellows  dine 
together  there  is  no  formality  about  the  board 
nor  any  heavy  talk. 

Mr.  Henry  Lucy,  who  has  been  called  the 
"Mark  Twain  of  England,''  recently  visited  this 
country  with  Mrs.  Lucy,  renewing  old  friendships 
and  forming  new  ones.  The  Lucys  give  delight 
ful  dinners  at  their  home  in  Ashley  Gardens, 
Victoria  Street,  as  I  have  often  had  occasion  to 
know,  and  the  guests  they  gather  about  them 
would  be  welcomed  by  the  cleverest  men  and 
women  anywhere.  For  special  occasions  the 
Lucys  use  a  table-cloth  profusely  ornamented 
with  the  autographs  of  many  brilliant  men  who 
have  dined  with  them,  for  it  is  only  as  a  guest 
that  one  may  write  his  name  on  this  sacred  bit 
of  linen.  Many  of  the  names  are  household 
117 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

words  in  America,  one  of  which  held  my  eye  for 
an  entire  evening ;  it  was  that  of  Charles  Dick 
ens.  It  was  over  the  Lucy  table  that  Burnand, 
editor  of  Punch,  and  W.  S.  Gilbert  had  their 
oft-quoted  encounter : 

"  I  suppose  you  often  have  good  things  sent  in 
by  outsiders  ?  "  said  Gilbert. 

"  Frequently,"  Burnand  replied. 

"  Then  why  don't  you  print  them  ?  " 

A  question  frequently  asked  of  late  is  whether 
the  marriages  of  American  girls  to  English  hus 
bands  result  happily.  My  own  observation  has 
satisfied  me  that  they  generally  do.  English 
girls  are  educated  to  be  good  housewives  and 
mothers,  but  their  childhood  and  early  girlhood 
is  usually  spent  in  the  nursery,  without  much  as 
sociation  with  adults,  so  when  they  are  thrust 
into  society  they  are  likely  to  be  shy,  if  not  awk 
ward,  and  have  little  or  nothing  to  say.  But  the 
American  girl  is  "one  of  the  family"  from  her 
infancy ;  she  is  as  much  a  companion  of  her  father 
as  her  brother  is,  and  she  knows  her  brother's 
friends  as  well  as  those  of  her  elder  sister.  She 
acquires  quickness  of  thought  and  speech,  vivacity 
and  cleverness,  and  can  be  companionable  with 
out  overstepping  the  bounds  of  strict  propriety. 

If  an  English  gentleman  longs  for  a  wife  who 
will  also  be  his  "  chum,"  who  will  enjoy  his  sports 
with  him  and  be  a  jolly  good  fellow,  which  is 

118 


EXPEKIENCES  IN  LONDON 


only  another  name  for  companion — who  is  com 
petent  to  amuse  and  entertain,  he  cannot  easily 
find  her  in  England  except  in  a  class  which  would 
preclude  his  offering  her  his  name,  but  if  he  is  so 
lucky  as  to  marry  an  American  girl  he  has  not 
only  a  model  wife  and  housekeeper  but  a  com 
panion  as  well. 


Mill  put  the  garment  on  his  wife. 

Just  one  more  mention  of  London,  for  the  sake 
of  that  touch  of  nature  that  makes  the  whole 
world  kin.  Down  by  the  East  India  dock  is  a 
hospital  on  the  wall  of  which  appears  the  follow 
ing  request,  "Will  drivers  please  walk  their 
horses?"  Although  heavy  traffic  passes  the 
building,  much  noise  is  avoided  if  horses  are  not 
urged  beyond  a  walk.  The  drivers  are  a  rather 
rough  lot,  like  drivers  anywhere,  but  they  care- 

119 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

fully  comply  with,  the  request ;  their  knowledge 
of  what  it  means  is  more  effective  than  a  platoon 
of  police  could  be.  The  gratitude  of  the  hospital 
authorities  and  patients  is  expressed  by  an  in 
scription  at  the  other  end  of  the  building — "Thank 
you,  drivers." 

"  We  cannot  chain  the  eagle  ; 

And  we  dare  not  chain  the  dove  ; 
But  every  gate  that's  barred  by  hate 
Is  opened  wide  by  love." 


126 


IX 
"  LUCK  "  IN  STORY-TELLING 

The  Real  Difference  Between  Good  Luck  and  Bad. — Good 
Luck  with  Stories  Presupposes  a  Well-stored  Memory. — 
Men  Who  Always  Have  the  Right  Story  Ready. — Mr. 
Depew. — Bandmaster  Sousa's  Darky  Stories. — John  Wana- 
maker's  Sunday-school  Stories. — Gen.  Horace  Porter's  Tales 
That  go  to  the  Spot. — The  Difference  Between  Parliament 
and  Congress. 

THE  difference  between  good  luck  and 
bad  luck  amounts  generally  to  the 
difference  between  the  men  who  are 
said  to  have  the  one  or  the  other.  Some  men 
are  always  waiting  for  something  to  turn  up : 
others  make  sure  of  it  by  taking  something — 
anything — from,  a  spade  to  their  wits,  and  dig 
ging  it  up.  Anywhere  in  the  country  one  may 
see  holding  down  chairs  in  the  store,  or  in  the 
city  lounging  at  tables  in  bar-rooms,  a  knot  of 
men  who  were  born  with  average  brains,  yet 
they  will  drone  dismally  of  successful  men  whom 
they  know  or  have  heard  of : 

"  Smith  became  a  preacher  at  twelve  thousand 
a  year." 

"  Jones  dropped  into  a  Supreme  Court  Judge- 
ship." 

121 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STREET 

"Brown  stumbled  on  a  business  chance  that 
made  him  a  millionaire." 

"  Well,  there's  nothing  like  luck  " — and  they 
go  on  sitting  still  waiting  for  it,  and  can't 
imagine  why  it  never  comes  their  way.  I  once 
chanced  to  mention  Chauncey  Depew's  name  in 
the  hearing  of  a  crowd  of  this  kind,  and  a  voice 
replied : 

"  There's  a  lucky  man  for  you  !  Why,  when 
ever  he  hears  of  anything,  it  is  just  his  luck  to 
have  a  story  that  goes  to  the  spot  as  quick  as  a 
bullet  from  a  gun." 

This  sort  of  "  luck,"  like  the  other  instances 
referred  to,  is  the  inevitable  outcome  of  the  man 
and  his  ways.  There  are  jokes  for  every  situa 
tion,  as  there  are  keys  for  every  lock ;  but  the 
man  who  lets  a  good  joke  go  in  one  ear  and  out 
of  the  other  is  like  him  who  puts  his  keys  into  a 
pocket  with  a  hole  in  it,  and  then  grumbles  that 
he  can't  unlock  his  doors.  Jokers  are  like 
dollars:  when  you  have  some  that  are  not 
needed  at  the  time,  it  is  better  to  stow  them 
away  for  future  use  than  to  drop  them  where 
they  can't  be  found  in  case  of  need. 

I  can  recall  from  my  own  experience  but  one 
case  of  sheer  luck  in  story-telling.  While  dining 
at  an  Englishman's  magnificent  place  one  sum 
mer,  some  peaches  were  served.  As  the  English 
climate  is  too  cool  to  ripen  peaches,  these  had 
122 


"LUCK"  IN  STOEY-TELLING 

been  grown  on  the  side  of  a  wall  and  under 
glass.  They  were  superb  in  size  and  color  yet 
they  had  small  stones  and  little  flavor.  When 
my  host  told  me  of  the  care  that  had  been 
lavished  on  them — they  must  have  cost  him  a 
dollar  each — my  mind  went  back  to  the  peach 
season  at  home,  so  I  said  to  him  : 

"  Peaches  that  would  make  your  mouth  water 
and  send  tears  of  joy  chasing  one  another  down 
your  cheeks  are  to-day  piled  high  on  barges  be 
side  the  wharves  of  New  York  and  selling  at  a 
dollar  a  basket,  with  from  one  to  two  hundred 
peaches  in  each  basket." 

I  made  this  truthful  statement  in  a  matter-of- 
fact  way,  which  was  all  it  called  for ;  but  my 
host  looked  at  me  in  amazement,  then  laughed 
heartily  and  said : 

"  Well,  you  Americans  have  always  been  re 
markable  for  the  stories  you  tell." 

To  revert  to  Mr.  Depew,  he  can  tell  a  new 
story  every  day  of  the  year,  and  add  two  or 
three  by  way  of  good  measure ;  but  their  new 
ness  is  generally  in  the  patness  of  their  applica 
tion.  He  is  so  able  at  this  sort  of  thing  that  he 
can  turn  a  story  against  the  man  who  tells  it. 
But  he  confesses  gleefully  to  having  been  caught 
once  in  the  same  manner.  He  was  billed  to 
make  a  speech  somewhere  up  the  state,  and 
when  he  arrived  the  editor  of  the  local  paper 
123 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STREET 


called  at  his  hotel  to  argue  politics  with  him. 
The  editor  quoted  newspaper  statements  fre 
quently  to  support  his  arguments,  but  Depevv 
replied : 

"  Oh,  you  can't  believe  everything  the  news 
papers  say." 


"The  editor  of  the  local  paper  called  at  his  hotel." 

After  the  speech-making  ended,  the  editor  and 
Mr.  Depew  met  again,  in  the  centre  of  a  crowd 
of  listeners. 

"  Well,  my  friend,"  the  genial  Chauncey  asked, 
"  what  did  you  think  of  my  speech  ?  " 

The  editor  hesitated  a  moment  before  he  in- 
124 


"LUCK"  IN  STORY-TELLING 

quired  solemnly  :  "  Are  you  the  genuine  Chaun- 
cey  M.  Depevv  ?  " 

"  Certainly  !     Do  you  doubt  it  ?  " 

Again  the  editor  hesitated.  He  regarded 
the  speaker  as  if  he  was  sizing  him  up,  and 
asked :  "  Are  you  the  man  all  the  newspapers 
have  been  saying  is  the  finest  speaker,  the 
greatest  talker,  the  sharpest  stumper  and  the 
brightest  wit  before  the  public  ?  " 

Depevv  modestly  blushed  at  this  array  of  com 
pliments  ;  but  replied :  "  I  guess  I  am  he.  But 
why  do  you  ask  ?  " 

"  Oh,  because  one  can't  believe  everything  the 
newspapers  say." 

And  Depew  made  haste  to  shake  hands  with 
the  editor  and  call  it  square. 

Mr.  Depew's  humorous  speeches  read  so  well 
that  nobody  misses  one  of  them  if  he  can  help  it ; 
but  it  is  impossible  for  cold  type  to  suggest  the 
inimitable  manner  with  which  they  are  givren. 
A  mature  maiden  woman  once  called  upon  him 
at  an  hour  when  his  time  was  worth  about  a 
dollar  a  second  and  asked  his  advice  about  buy 
ing  a  certain  bit  of  real  estate.  He  evasively 
answered  that  there  were  two  things  of  which 
he  knew  absolutely  nothing  :  they  were  women 
and  real  estate. 

This  amused  her  so  greatly  that  she  lingered 
instead  of  going  away,  and  to  prolong  her  stay 
125 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

she  asked  about  a  mutual  acquaintance  :  "  Where 
is  Mr.  Blank,  Mr.  Depew  ?" 

"  He  is  still  in  the  city." 

"  Does  he  stammer  as  much  as  he  did  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes ;  worse,  I  believe." 

"  Strange  he  never  married." 

"  No,  it  was  not  strange,  my  dear  madam. 
Blank  courted  a  lovely  girl — he  told  me  of  it 
years  afterward — and  this  is  the  way  he  pro 
posed."  Then  Mr.  Depew  looked  soulfully  at  his 
visitor  and  stammered :  "  '  D-d-d-dear  a-a-angel, 
1 1-1-1-love  y-y-you ! '  And  the  woman  replied  : 
*  You  need  not  proceed  further,  Mr.  Blank.  I 
do  not  care  to  be  wooed  on  the  instalment  plan.' " 
But  the  visitor  had  fled  too  rapidly  to  get  the 
benefit  of  the  joke. 

Bandmaster  Sousa  is  one  of  the  "  lucky  "  story 
tellers,  for  he  can  always  cap  an  improbable 
story  with  a  bigger  one.  After  listening  to  an 
extraordinary  yarn  about  some  man's  appetite, 
and  another  about  unquestioning  confidence  in 
another  man's  directions,  he  "  covered "  both 
with  the  following,  which  he  attributed  to  a 
Southern  negro : 

"  Down  on  our  fahm  we'ze  got  a  man  by  de 
name  o'  Jim.  Now,  Jim's  de  champion  ham- 
eater  of  all  de  country  roun'.  Unc'  Henry  hed 
cha'ge  o'  de  fahm,  an'  ev'ybody  'spected  Unc' 
Henry,  an'  when  Unc'  Henry  tol'  any  of  us  to 
126 


"  LUCK  "  IN  STORY-TELLING 

do  anythin'  we  jus'  done  it,  'ithout  stoppin'  to 
ask  any  questions,  'cause  we  had  conf'dence  in 
him.  We  knowed  he  wouldn't  ever  tell  us  to  do 
anythin'  dat  we  hadn't  orter. 

"But  dat  Jim — w'y,  folks  come  fora  all  de 
country  roun',  jes'  to  see  Jim  eat  ham,  fo'  de  way 
he  could  tuck  ham  away  was  amazin' ;  it  suttinly 
was.  How  you  would  laugh  to  see  Jim  a-settin' 
by  de  fence  one  day,  a-eatin'  one  ham  after 
another,  like  ez  ef  dey  was  cakes  or  biscuits ! 
'Twas  'ez  easy  to  him  as  pickin'  teeth,  an'  he'd 
got  down  eight  hams,  an'  de  ninth  was  a  follerin', 
but  I  reckon  it  wuz  f'om  a  middlin'  old  hawg,  for 
some  gris'le  got  in  his  throat,  an1  choked  him  an' 
stopped  his  breath,  so  we  wuz  a-feared  dat  we 
wuz  a-goin'  to  lose  Jim. 

"  But  up  got  Unc'  Henry  sort  o'  easy-like,  an' 
he  went  over  to  de  fence — dey  was  a  lot  o'  slabs 
on  top  o'  de  fence — and  he  tuk  a  slab,  an'  he  walk 
t'ward  Jim,  an'  he  sez :  'Jim,  git  down  on  all 
fours  ! '  Dat  slab  looked  mighty  big,  it  did,  an' 
right  in  front  o'  Jim  was  a  big  pile  o'  stones  ;  but 
Jim  had  conf'dence  in  Unc'  Henry,  like  ev'ybody 
did,  so  he  got  down  on  all  fours  an'  waited,  an' 
de  gris'le  in  his  throat,  why,  dat  waited  too.  An' 
Unc'  Henry  pahted  Jim's  coat-tails,  an'  histed  de 
slab,  an'  fetched  it  down  wid  a  mighty  swish,  an' 
give  Jim  a  hit,  an'  Jim  went  head  first  onto  dat 
pile  o'  stones ;  but  he  had  conf'dence  in  Unc' 
127 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 


Henry  so  he  knowed  he  wouldn't  be  knocked 
through  de  stones,  but  would  stop  ez  soon  ez  he 
hit  'em  —  his  conf  dence  in  Unc'  Henry  was  dat 
great.  An'  when  he  struck  dem  stones  dat  piece 
o'  gris'le  'lowed  it  had  bizness  somewhar  else. 
An'  Jim  riz  up  an'  hollered  'Gimme  anudder 
ham  !  '  " 


Depew— Porter — Wilder — Sousa — Wanamaker 

It  will  amaze  millions  of  John  Wanamaker's 
customers  to  know  that  the  man  who  is  so  busy 
that  they  can  never  get  a  glimpse  of  him  unless 
they  attend  his  church  is  an  industrious  teller  of 
stories  and  always  has  the  "  luck  " — though  that 
is  not  his  name  for  it — to  have  the  right  story  for 
any  situation.  That  most  of  his  yarns  are  spun 

128 


"LUCK"  IN  STOEY-TELLING 

in  Sunday-school  does  not  make  them  any  the  less 
good.  I  wish  Sunday-school  teachers  had  told 
stories  when  I  was  a  boy,  and  I  will  bet  Bibles  to 
buttons  that  if  teachers  were  practically  instructed 
in  story-telling,  all  the  Sunday-school  rooms  would 
have  to  be  enlarged  to  hold  the  increase  of  attend 
ants. 

But  I  was  speaking  of  John  Wanamaker. 
While  reproving  some  of  his  Sunday-school 
pupils  for  laughing  at  a  deaf  boy's  wrong 
answers  to  misunderstood  questions,  he  said : 

"  Boys,  it  isn't  right  to  laugh  at  any  one's  af 
fliction.  Besides,  you  never  know  when  your 
own  words  may  be  turned  against  you.  I  once 
knew  a  deaf  man — let  us  call  him  Brown — who 
was  disposed  to  stinginess  and  to  getting  every 
dollar  he  could  out  of  everybody  and  everything. 
He  never  married ;  but  he  was  very  fond  of  so 
ciety,  so  one  day  he  felt  compelled  to  give  a 
banquet  to  the  many  ladies  and  gentlemen  whose 
guest  he  had  been. 

"  They  were  amazed  that  his  purse-strings  had 
been  unloosed  so  far,  and  they  thought  he  de 
served  encouragement,  so  it  was  arranged  that 
he  should  be  toasted.  One  of  the  most  daring 
young  men  of  the  company  was  selected,  for  it 
took  a  lot  of  nerve  to  frame  and  propose  a  toast 
to  so  unpopular  a  man  as  Miser  Brown.  But  the 
young  man  rose,  and  Brown,  who  had  been  noti- 
129 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

fied  of  what  was  to  occur,  fixed  his  face  in  the 
customary  manner  of  a  man  about  to  be  toasted. 
And  this  was  what  was  heard  by  every  one  ex 
cept  Brown,  who  never  heard  anything  that  was 
not  roared  into  his  ear : 

" '  Here's  to  you,  Miser  Brown.  You  are  no 
better  than  a  tramp,  and  it  is  suspected  that  you 
got  most  of  your  money  dishonestly.  We  trust 
that  you  may  get  your  just  deserts  yet,  and  land 
in  the  penitentiary.' 

"Yisible  evidences  of  applause  made  Brown 
smile  with  gratification.  He  got  upon  his  feet, 
raised  his  glass  to  his  lips,  and  said :  '  The  same 
to  you,  sir.' " 

General  Horace  Porter  is  another  of  the  men 
whose  stories  always  fit.  It  is  said  that  he  ac 
cepted  the  post  of  American  Ambassador  to 
France  for  the  sole  purpose  of  taking  a  rest  from 
making  after-dinner  speeches.  He  can  even  use 
a  pun  in  a  manner  to  compel  admiration,  in  which 
respect  he  differs  from  almost  every  one.  On 
one  occasion  he  said : 

"New  England  speakers  have  said  that  the 
Puritans  were  always  missionaries  among  the 
people  with  whom  they  came  in  contact.  I  saw 
recently  a  newspaper  paragraph  that  indicated 
the  disposition  of  the  Puritan  to  busy  himself 
with  the  great  hereafter,  and  to  get  as  close  to  it 
as  possible.  The  paragraph  announced  that  the 
130 


"LUCK"  IN  STORY-TELLING 

Puritan  had  collided  in  Hell  Gate.    (The  Puritan 
last-named  was  a  steamboat.) 

"But  when  the  wooden  Puritan — the  New 
Englander,  gets  a  man  on  the  perilous  edge,  so 
that  one  or  other  must  topple  over  into  the  pit, 
he  takes  care  that  he  shall  not  be  the  unfortunate. 


"  Where  will  I  go,  Sor? 


He  is  as  cautious  in  this  respect  as  was  the  night- 
cab  driver  in  front  of  a  house  where  there  had 
been  a  bibulous  dinner  part}7.  A  man  emerged 
from  the  house,  staggered  across  the  sidewalk, 
laying  out  more  zigzags  than  did  our  patriot  sires 
at  the  siege  of  Yorktown,  opened  the  door  of  the 
cab  and  threw  himself  on  the  seat. 

"  The  driver  asked :  '  Where  will  I  go,  sor  ? ' 
" '  To  hell ! '  was  the  unexpected  reply. 
131 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

"  The  cabby  drove  about  for  some  moments  to 
take  a  think,  for  though  he  had  heard  of  many 
sure  roads  to  the  torrid  destination  mentioned  he 
was  not  'up'  on  the  conveniences  at  the  en 
trance,  and  he  didn't  want  to  scorch  the  paint  on 
his  cab.  Soon  he  asked  again :  '  Where  am  I  to 
take  you,  sor  ? ? 

"'To  hell,'  was  again  the  reply.  Cabby 
scratched  his  head,  studied  the  situation,  and 
asked :  '  Beg  pardon,  sor,  but  can  I  back  up  when 
I  land  you?'" 

To  an  interviewer  who  expected  to  get  a  good 
article  on  the  difference  between  the  English  Par 
liament  and  our  Congress  (this  was  at  a  time 
when  many  Congressmen  were  tobacco-chewers) 
he  said : 

"  In  Parliament  the  men  sit  with  their  hats  on 
and  cough ;  in  Congress  they  sit  with  their  hats 
off  and  spit." 


132 


JOURNALISTS  AND  AUTHORS 

Not  All  Journalists  are  Critics,  nor  are  All  Critics  Fault 
finders. — The  Most  Savage  Newspapers  not  the  Most  In 
fluential. — The  Critic's  Duty. — Horace  Greeley. — Mark 
Twain's  First  Earnings. — A  Great  Publisher  "Ap 
proached  "  by  Green  Goods  Men. — Henry  Watterson. — 
Opie  Reid. — Quimby  of  the  Free  Press. — Laurence  Hut- 
ton,  Edwin  Booth  and  I  in  Danger  Together. 

WHEN  you  say  "  journalist "  to  a  man  of 
my  profession — or  of  any  other  that 
devotes  its  time  and  wits  to  the  task 
of  amusing  and  entertaining  people,  it  is  taken 
for  granted  that  you  mean  "critic,"  and  that 
"  critic  "  in  turn  means  faultfinder.  This  is  ex 
tremely  unfair  to  journalists  in  general  and  to 
critics  in  particular,  for  not  all  journalists  are 
critics,  nor  all  critics  faultfinders.  Eun  over  the 
names  of  all  the  critics  you've  heard  of  here  or  in 
London  or  Paris — critics,  dramatic,  musical  and 
literary,  and  you  will  discover,  to  your  surprise, 
that  those  who  are  best  known  and  have  most  in 
fluence,  are  those  who  are  quickest  to  praise  and 
slowest  to  find  fault. 

As  a  proof  of  it,  and  how  it  strikes  the  men 
133 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STREET 

and  women  most  concerned,  both  in  pocket  and 
pride,  is  the  following : — almost  every  new  play, 
concert  and  entertainment  of  any  kind  tries  to 
give  its  first  real  performance  in  New  York.  It 
may  endeavor  to  get  some  money  out  of  the 
later  rehearsals  by  giving  a  few  performances 
out  of  town  : — "  Trying  it  on  the  dog  "  is  the 
name  for  this  sort  of  thing,  but  New  York 


is  trusted  to  set  the  pace,  and  this  is  what  fol 
lows; — on  the  day  on  which  New  York  news 
papers  containing  a  report  of  the  performance 
reaches  any  city  or  town  where  the  same  attrac 
tion  has  been  booked  conditionally,  or  where 
managers  or  entertainment  committees  have 
heard  enough  in  advance  about  it  to  want  to  hear 
more,  there  is  a  run  on  news  stands  for  certain 
New  York  papers.  I  won't  indicate  them  closer 
than  to  say  that  they  are  not  those  sheets  which 
134 


JOUKNALISTS  AND  AUTHOES 

support  the  brilliant  chaps  who  skilfully  ride 
hobbies  of  their  own,  or  who  are  most  skilled  at 
vivisecting  and  eviscerating  a  playright  and 
splitting  each  particular  hair  of  an  actor,  singer 
or  entertainer.  The  papers  for  which  there  is 
general  demand  are  those  which  tell  whether 
the  performance  was  good  of  its  kind,  specify  the 
kind  and  tell  how  the  audience  regarded  it.  At 
the  end  of  the  third  act  of  a  new  play  in  New 
York  a  noted  critic  was  buttonholed  in  the  lobby 
by  a  club-man  who  had  a  friend  in  the  cast  and 
asked  for  his  opinion. 

"It's  a  success — a  great  success,"  was  the 
reply. 

"  Good  !     I'm  so  glad  you  like  it." 

"  Like  it  ?  My  dear  fellow,  I  never  was  worse 
bored  in  my  life.  I'd  rather  have  heard  *  Julius 
Ca3sar '  done  by  a  lot  of  high  school  boys.  But 
that  has  nothing  to  do  with  it.'  If  pieces  were 
written  and  played  for  me  and  my  kind,  they'd 
have  to  charge  ten  dollars  a  ticket  to  get  money 
enough  to  pay  for  the  gas  and  music.  Plays  are 
made  for  audiences ;  this  audience  likes  this 
play — likes  it  immensely,  so  other  audiences  will 
like  it  too,  and  if  I  don't  say  so  in  our  newspaper 
to-morrow  morning  I  deserve  to  be  bounced  and 
have  this  week's  salary  docked." 

Of  course  it  is  a  critic's  business  to  see  defects 
and  call  attention  to  them.  When  he  does  so  he 
135 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

confers  a  favor  upon  the  performer,  who  generally 
is  so  absorbed  in  what  he  is  doing  that  he  doesn't 
know  what  he  is  leaving  undone  or  doing  badly. 
But  the  faults  of  stage  or  platform  can't  be 
remedied  with  a  sledge-hammer  or  a  double 
bladed  dagger — not  ever  if  you  give  the  dagger  a 
turn  or  two  after  you  have  jabbed  it  in.  A  prom 
inent  critic  said  to  me  : 

"  I  don't  criticise  a  play  according  to  my  own 
feelings  and  tastes.  Although  I've  a  very  good 
opinion  of  my  own  personal  standard  of  judg 
ment,  I  don't  believe  the  people  collectively 
would  give  a  snap  of  the  finger  for  it.  I  simply 
try  to  ascertain  the  opinion  of  the  audience  and 
express  it  for  the  benefit  of  the  people  of  whom 

audiences  are  made.     I  greatly  dislike and 

(mentioning  a  popular  actor  and  actress) 

but  who  cares  ?  It  would  not  be  fair  to  try  to 
impress  my  dislikes  upon  others,  unless  I  chance 
upon  some  one  who  takes  the  stage  seriously, 
and  there  are  only  two  classes  who  do  this — con 
ceited  critics,  and  actors  who  don't  get  their  pay. 
Fortunately  I  know  very  few  professional  peo 
ple  ;  if  I  knew  more  I  would  become  insane 
through  trying  to  dissociate  their  personality 
from  their  work.  It  is  bad  to  know  too  much 
about  anybody  or  anything,  if  you  don't  want  to 
throw  the  world  out  of  joint.  Except  in  matters 
of  morals  and  manners, '  where  ignorance  is  bliss 
136 


JOURNALISTS  AND  AUTHOKS 

'tis  folly  to  be  wise.'  Did  you  ever  hear  how 
Horace  Greeley  once  got  cold  feet  ?  A  friend — 
one  of  the  wise,  observant,  upsetting  kind  of 
friends  called  on  Greeley,  one  cold  winter  day,  and 
found  the  great  journalist  with  a  favorite  book  in 
his  hand,  a  beatific  smile  on  his  face  and  his  feet 
over  the  register.  The  visitor  had  previously 
been  through  the  building  and  learned  that  the 
furnace  had  gone  wrong  and  been  removed,  the 
cold  air  flue  could  not  be  closed,  and  zero  air  was 
coming  through  all  the  registers,  so  he  said : 

" '  Mr.  Greeley,  why  do  you  keep  your  feet 
there  ?  There  is  no  heat — only  cold  air  is  com 
ing  up ! ' 

"  Greeley  tumbled  out  of  his  chair  and  in  the 
childish  whine  that  always  came  to  him  when  he 
was  excited,  replied, 

" '  Why  didn't  you  let  me  alone  ?  I  was  entirely 
comfortable  ;  but  now,  I'm  near  you,  I'm  frozen.' " 

Mention  of  Greeley,  who  was  too  busy  a  man 
to  think  of  being  a  humorist,  yet  waa  one  in 
spite  of  himself,  recalls  one  of  Mr.  Depew's 
stories  about  him.  A  man  who  was  in  search 
of  financial  aid  for  some  evangelistic  work  got 
into  Mr.  Greeley's  sanctum  one  day,  and  found 
the  great  editor  writing,  with  his  head  held  side 
ways  and  close  to  the  desk,  like  a  schoolboy,  as 
was  his  custom.  He  waved  his  hand,  to  signify 
that  the  man  should  go  away,  but  Greeley  had 
137 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STREET 

the  reputation  of  being  an  easy-mark,  financially, 
and  the  visitor's  mind  was  fixed  on  business,  so 
he  asked, 

"  Mr.  Greeley,  how  much  will  you  give  to  pre 
vent  your  fellow  men  from  going  to  hell  ?" 

"  Not  a  damn  cent ! "  was  the  reply,  as  the 
great  editor  went  on  writing.  "  Not  enough  of 
them  go  there  now.  I  could  name  hundreds  who 


ought  to  have  been  there  long  ago "  all 

this  in  a  whining  drawl  that  carried  conviction 
with  it. 

Speaking  of  drawls,  I  wish  all  my  readers 
could  have  heard  Mark  Twain's  voice  as  he  told 
me  a  tale  of  juvenile  woe.  I  had  asked  him  if 
he  could  remember  the  first  money  he  had  ever 
earned. 

"  Yes,"  he  said.  "  It  was  at  school.  All  boys 
had  the  habit  of  going  to  school  in  those  days, 
138 


JOUKKALISTS  AND  ATJTHOKS 

and  they  hadn't  any  more  respect  for  the  desks 
than  they  had  for  the  teachers.  There  was  a 
rule  in  our  school  that  any  boy  marring  his  desk, 
either  with  pencil  or  knife,  would  be  chastised 
publicly  before  the  whole  school  or  pay  a  fine  of 
five  dollars.  Besides  the  rule  there  was  a  ruler; 
I  knew  it  because  I  had  felt  it ;  it  was  a  darned 
hard  one,  too. 

"  One  day  I  had  to  tell  my  father  that  I  had 
broken  the  rule,  and  had  to  pay  a  fine  or  take  a 
public  whipping,  and  he  said  : 

" '  Sam,  it  would  be  too  bad  to  have  the  name 
of  Clemens  disgraced  before  the  whole  school,  so 
I'll  pay  the  fine.  But  I  don't  want  you  to  lose 
anything,  so  come  up-stairs.'  I  went  up-stairs 
with  father  and  he  was  tor-giving  me.  I  came 
down-stairs  with  the  feeling  in  one  hand  and  the 
five  dollars  in  the  other,  and  decided  that  as  I'd 
been  punished  once,  and  got  used  to  it,  I  wouldn't 
mind  taking  the  other  licking  at  school.  So  I 
did,  and  I  kept  the  five  dollars.  That  was  the 
first  money  I  ever  earned." 

This  unexpected  shift  of  the  moral  point  of 
view  is  peculiar  to  boys.  James  "Whitcomb 
Riley,  author  of  no  end  of  things,  humorous 
and  pathetic,  told  me  of  a  small  boy  who  as 
tonished  his  mother  one  night  by  saying  his 
prayers  in  German.  When  reproved,  he  said : 

"  Oh,  that  was  a  joke." 
139 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

"You  must  not  joke  with  heaven,"  said  his 
mother  severely. 

"  Oh,  the  joke  isn't  on  heaven ;  it's  on  you," 
was  the  reply. 

Another  small  friend  of  Mr.  Kiley  jumped 
quickly  into  bed  one  cold  night.  His  mother 
said: 

''  Johnny,  haven't  you  forgotten  something  ?  " 

"No,  mamma,"  was  the  reply.  "I've  made 
up  ray  mind  not  to  say  my  prayers  to-night  or 
to-morrow  night  or  the  night  after,  and  then  if  I 
have  luck  I  won't  say  them  any  more  at  all." 

My  friend  Frank  Doubleday,  a  member  of  a 
publishing  firm  that  all  authors  regard  admir 
ingly,  would  rather  get  a  laugh  on  some  one 
than  get  a  record-breaking  novel.  He  is  a  fine, 
tall,  handsome  fellow  and  like  many  another 
handsome  man  who  is  really  manly,  he  is  careless 
of  his  dress,  looking  more  like  a  busy  farmer  than 
a  successful  publisher.  Going  through  Green 
wich  Street  one  day,  near  the  ferries  and  steam 
boat  landings,  his  rural  appearance  and  manner 
attracted  the  attention  of  one  of  the  "  bunco  "  or 
"  green  goods  "  gentry,  who  accosted  him  with : 

"  Why,  Mr.  Brown,  I'm  very  glad  to  see  you." 

"  But  my  name  isn't  Brown,"  said  Doubleday, 
in  his  most  innocent  manner. 

"What?  Aren't  you  Mr.  Brown,  of  Pat- 
erson  ?  " 

140 


JOUENALISTS  AND  AUTHOES 

"  No,  my  name  is  Marshall  P.  Wilder." 

"  Oh,  you  go  to  h 11 1 "  growled  the  bunco- 
man  with  a  glare. 

To  get  back  to  journalists,  with  whom  I  be 
gan,  I  believe  I  have  said  elsewhere  that  Henry 
Watterson  is  the  most  quoted  editor  in  the  United 
States.  Yet  a  lot  of  his  best  things  do  not  ap 
pear  over  his  signature;  he  says  so  many  that 
only  a  phonograph  could  keep  tally  of  them. 
One  evening  at  the  Riggs  House  in  Washington 
he  found  his  friend  Col.  Dick  Wintersraith,  the 
poet  lobbyist,  in  a  gastronomic  quandary,  for  the 
colonel  longed  for  a  dinner  of  beefsteak  and  onions 
but  dreaded  to  carry  the  perfume  of  onions  in 
his  breath.  Watterson  said : 

"  Colonel  Dick,  I'll  tell  you  how  to  avoid  it." 

"Do!" 

"Why,  go  to  John  Chamberlin's  for  your 
beefsteak  and  onions ;  when  you  get  your  bill  it 
will  take  your  breath  entirely  away." 

Opie  Reid,  editor  and  author,  frequently  ap 
pears  on  the  platform,  to  the  delight  of  every 
one  who  listens  to  him.  One  night  he  was 
greatly  puzzled,  for  although  his  audience  laughed 
heartily  no  one  applauded.  He  learned  after 
ward  that  he  had  been  engaged  to  entertain  the 
inmates  of  a  home  for  disabled  railway  employees, 
and  his  audience  was  composed  of  switchmen, 
each  of  whom  had  lost  an  arm,  perhaps  two.  He 

141 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

got  a  laugh  even  on  one  of  the  dreadful  eating- 
houses  peculiar  to  southern  railroad  stations. 
Most  of  his  fellow  passengers  were  commercial 
travelers,  and  knew  by  experience  what  to  ex 
pect  at  such  places,  so  they  got  off  of  the  train 
with  sullen  looks,  as  if  sorry  rather  than  glad 
that  they  were  to  dine,  and  their  complainings 
began  before  they  reached  the  table.  A  negro 
was  walking  to  and  fro  on  the  station  platform 
ringing  a  dinner-bell,  and  near  him  was  a  small 
dog  howling  so  piteously  that  the  darky  stopped 
and  exclaimed : 

"What's  you  hollerin'  for?  You  don't  have 
to  eat  here." 

My  friend  Quimby  of  the  Detroit  Free  Press 
tells  of  "meeting  up"  with  two  strangers  who  be 
came  so  friendly  that  soon  the  three  were  intro 
ducing  themselves. 

"  I'm  from  Detroit,"  said  Quimby  to  one. 
"  Where  are  you  from  ?  " 

"  Boston,"  was  the  reply.  The  Bostonian 
turned  enquiringly  to  the  third,  who  said  : 

"I'm  from  Pawtucket.  Now,  d mn  you, 

laugh ! " 

I  am  indebted  to  hundreds  of  critics  and  other 
journalists  for  kind  things  they  have  printed  about 
me.  As  to  authors,  one  of  them  saved  my  life  a 
few  years  ago,  and  this  is  how  it  occurred : — I 
had  rooms  in  Thirty-fourth  Street,  in  New  York, 
142 


next  door  to  the  late  Laurence  Hutton,  author 
of  many  well-known  books.  One  night,  on  re 
turning  home  very  late,  I  discovered  that  I  had 
neglected  to  take  my  keys,  so  I  was  practically 
locked  out.  I  rang  the  bell,  but  no  one  responded. 
Suddenly  I  noted  that  lights  were  still  burning 
in  Mr.  Hutton's  house,  and  I  recalled  that  he  had 
given  a  dinner  that  night  to  Mr.  Edwin  Booth, 
the  tragedian.  Hutton  was  the  most  obliging 
neighbor  any  one  could  have  had,  so  I  rang  him 
up,  told  him  of  my  trouble,  and  asked  permission 
to  go  into  his  yard  and  climb  the  division  fence, 
after  which  I  would  get  into  my  own  house 
through  a  rear  window. 

"  All  right,  Marshall,"  Hutton  replied,  "  and 
I'll  go  with  you,  and  help  you  over  the  fence." 

My  only  fear  was  of  a  lodger  in  my  own  house 
— a  nervous  man,  apprehensive  of  burglars,  and 
who  kept  revolvers  and  a  quick  temper  ready  for 
use  at  any  moment  he  might  be  aroused.  I  said 
as  much  to  Mr.  Hutton,  and  the  affair  immedi 
ately  changed  from  a  neighborly  courtesy  to  an 
adventure  with  a  spice  of  danger  to  make  it  more 
attractive.  Mr.  Booth  who  had  overheard  the 
conversation,  announced  that  he  wasn't  to  be  left 
out  of  any  fun  in  sight,  so  we  three  crept  silently 
into  Hutton's  back  yard  like  three  burglars,  or 
more  like  three  schoolboys  out  for  mischief. 
Finding  that  he  could  not  lift  me  over,  as  he  had 
143 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

intended,  Hutton  got  a  chair,  stood  upon  it  and 
helped  me  to  the  top  of  the  fence,  which  was 
high.  Even  there  I  was  no  better  off,  for  the 
fence  was  as  tall  as  I  was  not,  so  like  Moham 
med's  coffin  I  was  poised  between  heaven  and 
earth  and  unable  to  drop  without  breaking  some 
thing.  But  Hutton  was  a  man  of  expedients :  he 
stood  on  the  extreme  top  of  the  chair-back,  leaned 
over  the  fence  and  held  my  cane,  by  its  crook,  as 
if  it  were  a  dangling  rope,  down  which  I  slid 
safely,  thanks  to  a  running  fire  of  tragic  stage- 
whispers,  by  Mr.  Booth,  to  the  general  effect,  that 
it  is  always  well  to  keep  very  tight  hold  of  a  good 
thing,  until  you  strike  a  better  one. 

I  reached  the  ground  safely  and  began  the  more 
dangerous  part  of  my  enterprise,  which  was  to 
open  a  window  of  the  main  floor  without  rousing 
the  lodger  who  was  a  light  sleeper  and  kept  pis 
tols.  A  spectator,  had  there  been  any  excepting 
the  blase  man  in  the  moon,  might  have  gazed  at 
an  unusual  scene — honest  little  me  apparently 
burglarizing  a  house,  while  a  prominent  author 
and  the  greatest  living  tragedian,  both  honorable 
and  law-abiding  citizens,  standing  shakily  on  the 
highest  back-bar  of  a  single  chair,  steadying 
themselves  by  leaning  heavily  on  a  fence-top  and 
giving  me  all  the  moral  support  that  could  be 
signified  by  heart-throbs  and  irregular  breath 
ings.  Suddenly  Hutton  whispered  hoarsely, 
144 


JOUKNALISTS  AND  AUTHOES 

"  Look  out,  Marshall ! " 

But  I  looked  up,  and  right  into  the  business 
end  of  a  revolver,  and  I  did  not  at  all  approve  of 
what  I  saw.  Had  I  looked  toward  the  fence  I 
would  have  beheld  two  eminent  Americans  in 
the  undignified  act  of  "ducking."  But  I  was  too 
busily  engaged  in  flattening  myself  against  the 
window  to  have  eyes  for  anything  but  fragmen 
tary  visions  of  the  world  to  come :  I  shriveled  so 
utterly  that  it  seemed  a  million  years  before  I 
had  lungs  enough  to  shout. 

"  Don't  shoot !     It's  Marshall !  " 

"We  never  settled  it  to  our  mutual  satisfaction 
— Hutton's,  and  Booth's  and  mine,  by  which  of  us 
the  world  might  have  lost  most  had  the  revolver 
been  fired  and  hit  one  of  us.  Mr.  Booth  was  the 
incarnation  of  modesty,  Hutton  could  eloquently 

praise  any  one  but  himself,  while  I But,  as 

already  said,  we  never  agreed  as  to  which  would 
have  been  the  world's  greatest  loss. 


145 


XI 

THE  UNEXPECTED 

Robert  Billiard  and  I  and  a  Dog.  —Hartford's  Actors  and  Play 
wrights. — A  Fit  that  Caused  a  Misfit. — A  Large  Price  to 
Hear  a  Small  Man.— Jim  Corbett  and  I. — A  Startled  Audi 
ence. — Captain  Williams  and  "Red"  Leary. — "Joe" 
Choate  to  the  Rescue. — Bait  for  a  Dude. — Deadheads. — 
Within  an  Inch  of  Davy  Jones. — Perugini  and  Four  Fair 
Adorers. — Scanlon  and  Kernell. 

IN  one  respect  personal  experiences  are  like 
jokes — those  least  expected  cause  the  most 
lasting    impression.      I    may    be    excused, 
therefore,  for  recording  some  of  both. 

Some  years  ago  a  party  of  ladies  and  gentle 
men,  among  whom  were  Mr.  Hilliard  and  myself 
visited  David's  Island,  an  important  military  post 
on  Long  Island  Sound.  We  were  handsomely 
entertained  during  the  day,  so  at  night  we  en 
deavored  to  return  the  compliment.  There  was 
a  large  gathering  in  the  mess  room,  the  post  band 
gave  a  few  selections  and  Mr.  Hilliard  announced 
that  he  would  recite  "  Christmas  Night  in  the 
Workhouse."  Instantly  a  large  Newfoundland 
dog  who  had  been  quite  conspicuous,  looked  sad, 
dropped  upon  the  floor  and  went  to  sleep.  The 
joke  was  on  Bob  and  every  one  was  obliged  to 
146 


THE  UNEXPECTED 

laugh.  But  when  my  turn  came  and  I  announced 
a  few  stories  about  camp  life  that  dog  arose, 
looked  straight  and  reproachfully  into  my  eyes 
and  walked  out  of  the  door.  When  the  laughter 
subsided  I  felt  obliged  to  say  : 

"  I  don't  blame  you,  old  chap." 

As  I  was  a  Hartford  boy,  I  have  always  had  a 
special  liking  for  the  men  and  women  whom  that 
city  has  given  to  the  stage  and  platform.  They 
make  an  imposing  array,  too — William  Gillette, 
Mark  Twain,  Otis  Skinner,  Harry  Woodruff,  Lew 
Dockstader,  Francis  Carlyle,  Musical  Dale,  Frank 
Lawton,  C.  B.  Dillingham  and  Mesdames  Lucille 
Saunders  and  Emma  Eames. 

I  greatly  admire  Mr.  Gillette's  plays ;  they 
contain  so  wonderful  a  variety  of  characters  that 
it  seems  to  me  he  must  have  searched  the  whole 
country  for  originals.  One  day  he  told  me  of  a 
pleasant  trip  he  had  made  on  the  St.  Lawrence 
Kiver  and  said : 

"  I'm  going  to  live  up  there." 

"  Are  you  ?  Where  ?  "  I  asked,  supposing  he 
would  name  a  hotel  where  a  large  lot  of  human 
nature  could  be  studied,  but  he  named  a  lonely 
part  of  the  Thousand  Islands,  and  said  he  owned 
an  island  there,  so  I  asked  : 

"  Why  do  you  go  there  ?  You  will  be  all 
alone." 

"  I  want  to  be  alone,"  he  replied. 
147 


"  Will  no  one  live  there  but  yourself  ?  " 

"No  one  but  a  hen — a  little  bantam  hen." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that  ?  What  do  you 
want  of  a  hen  ?  " 

"  Well,  I've  always  had  great  fondness  and 
respect  for  hens,  but  have  been  unable  to  get 
acquainted  with  them,  but  this  is  my  chance." 

Mark  Twain  was  once  asked  to  write  a  testi 
monial  for  a  map  of  the  world,  and  this  is  what 
he  wrote : 

"  Before  using  your  wonderful  map,  my  family 
were  afflicted  with  fits,  but  since  using  it  they 
have  nothing  but  freckles." 

There  was  a  time  when  I  wished  for  Mark's 
wonderful  map,  for  I  was  afflicted  by  a  fit.  It 
was  at  an  entertainment  at  Long  Branch  given 
in  aid  of  the  Monmouth  Hospital.  Many  actors 
and  actresses  who  were  stopping  at  "  the  Branch  " 
gave  their  services,  among  them  Neil  Burgess, 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Oliver  Dowd  Byron,  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Matt  Snyder,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Frank  Chanfrau,  Miss 
Maggie  Mitchell,  Miss  Theresa  Vaughn  and  oth 
ers.  I  was  to  appear,  and  when  I  arrived,  I  saw 
Miss  Yaughn  and  Mr.  Snyder,  who  was  stage 
manager,  holding  an  animated  discussion.  Sny 
der  came  over  to  me  and  said : 

"  Miss  Yaughn  has  been  billed  to  follow  you, 
but  she  doesn't  wish  to.  She  would  like  to  pre 
cede  you." 

148 


THE  UNEXPECTED 

"  All  right,"  I  replied,  "  I'm  perfectly  willing." 
She  went  out  and  made  a  great  hit.     Then  my 
turn  came,  and  I  had  just  got  a  recitation  under 
way  when  a  woman  in  the  audience  began  to 
have  a  fit,  at  the  most  critical  part  of  my  num 
ber.     I  had  to  stop  as  it  was  not  a  duet,  and  go 
off  of  the  stage.     Mr.  Snyder  asked  : 
"  What's  the  matter,  Marsh  ?  " 
"  There's  a  woman  out  there  having  a  fit." 
"  Oh,  go  back  and  do  the  best  you  can,"  he  re 
plied. 

"  This  is  not  where  I  fit,"  I  answered.  But  I 
went  back  and  told  my  pianist  to  play  number 
seven  "of  my  repertoire,  which  was  called  "  Poor 
Thing ! " 

The  audience  saw  the  joke,  and  helped  me  out, 
but  I  wish  my  readers  could  have  been  in  my 
position  if  they  do  not  believe  that  fit  was  an 
affliction — one  which  Miss  Vaughn  was  fortunate 
enough  to  escape. 

A  great  many  men  have  told  me  they  greatly 
wanted  to  hear  me  recite,  and  I  am  convinced 
that  one  in  particular  meant  what  he  said.  I 
refer  to  Bingham  the  ventriloquist.  He  chanced 
to  be  in  a  town  where  I  was  to  appear  before  the 
Young  Men's  Christian  Association.  He  went 
to  the  hall  to  reserve  a  good  seat,  but  was  told 
that  no  tickets  would  be  sold ;  the  entertainment 
would  be  for  members  only. 
149 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

"  But  I  want  to  hear  Mr.  Wilder,"  he  said, 
"  and  this  is  my  only  chance  within  sight.  Is 
there  no  way  of  my  getting  in  ?  " 

"  None :  unless  you  join  the  Association." 
Incredible  though  it  may  seem,  Bingham  did 
join  the  Y.  M.  C.  A.  for  the  sole  purpose  of  lis 
tening  to  me.     He  never  asked  me  to  refund  his 
initiation  fee  on  the  ground  that  he  didn't  get 


C 


"  There's  James  J.  Corbett !  "     "  Which  One  ?  " 


the  worth  of  it,  either,  though  I've  scrupulously 
avoided  recalling  the  incident  to  his  memory. 

Nothing  is  more  unexpected  by  any  one  than 
to  be  mistaken  for  some  one  else.  One  day  while 
I  was  walking  with  James  J.  Corbett,  the  hand 
some  actor-pugilist,  who  is  about  twice  as  tall  as 
I,  two  young  ladies  passed  us  and  one  exclaimed : 

"Why,  there's  James  J.  Corbett." 
150 


THE  UNEXPECTED 

"  Which  one  ?  "  the  other  asked. 

Light-weight  though  I  am,  there  was  a  time 
when  I  got  Corbett  badly  rattled.  He  was  liv 
ing  at  As  bury  Park,  training  for  one  of  his 
fights,  and  I,  while  in  a  railway  car  with  him, 
got  out  some  friends — a  pack  of  cards — and  did 
some  tricks  for  Jim.  Soon  I  got  him  so  puzzled 
that  he  exclaimed  : 

"  Hold  on  there,  Marsh  !  These  tricks  get  me 
nutty." 

It  was  the  unexpected  that  brought  James 
Young,  the  actor,  a  roar  of  laughter  one  evening 
when  he  addressed  as  follows  an  audience  com 
posed  entirely  of  his  own  acquaintances  : 

"  My  friends — I  cannot  call  you  ladies  and 
gentlemen,  for  I  know  you  all." 

It  was  the  unexpected,  too,  that  only  severely 
jarred  Capt.  Alex.  Williams,  a  noted  ex-police 
official  in  New  York.  A  woman  fainted  in  the 
street,  the  captain  caught  her  by  one  arm, 
and  "  Red "  Leary,  a  noted  criminal  by  the 
other. 

"  Cap'n,"  said  "  Red  "  politely,  "  this  is  the  first 
time  you  and  me  have  '  worked '  together." 

Minister  Choate — "  Joe  "  Choate,  has  a  reserve 
fund  of  the  unexpected.  Some  American  dishes 
were  served  up  at  a  breakfast  party  in  England, 
one  being  ham  and  eggs.  A  young  lady  at  the 
minister's  right  was  ignorant  of  the  slippery 
151 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STREET 

ways  of  fried  eggs  on  a  dish,  so  she  accidentally 
spilled  the  contents  of  her  plate. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Choate ! "  she  exclaimed,  "  I  don't 
know  what  to  do,  for  I've  dropped  an  egg  on  the 
floor,"  and  Choate  replied : 

"  If  I  were  you.  I'd  cackle." 

Matt  Snyder,  the  actor,  found  at  his  table  one 


"  Ignorant  of  the  Slippery  Ways  of  Fried  Eggs." 


night  a  young  man  so  elaborately  dressed  as  to 
be  a  startling  dude,  so  he  asked  his  daughter : 

"  What  did  you  bait  your  hook  with  to  catch 
that  ?  "  but  he  was  floored  by  the  sweet  reply : 

"  Cake,  papa." 

Sometimes  the  unexpected  will  cause  a  man  to 
be  grievously  wounded  in  the  house  of  his 
friends.  Here  is  an  illustration,  clipped  from  a 
New  York  newspaper : 

152 


THE  UNEXPECTED 

"  Marshall  P.  Wilder,  the  professional  humor 
ist,  was  in  the  Lambs'  Club,  surrounded  by  some 
spirits,  yesterday  evening.  He  looked  at  his 
watch  and  remarked  wearily,  'I've  got  to  run 
away,  for  I've  got  to  go  up-town  to  be  funny. 
It's  an  awful  bore.' 

"  Wilton  Lackaye,  who  has  been  taking  up  the 
role  of  smart  cynicism  left  by  poor  Maurice  Bar- 
rymore,  drawled,  in  his  most  irritating  manner : 
'I  wouldn't  do  it,  then.  Why  don't  you  give 
your  usual  entertainment  ? ' 

" '  Cruel  boy,'  chirped  Wilder,  as  he  made  for 
the  door." 

Lackaye  is  also  the  man  who  gravely  suggested 
to  a  patriotic  Scotchman  that  the  reason  the  bag 
pipes  were  put  in  the  rear  of  a  regiment  in  battle 
was  that  the  men  would  be  so  anxious  to  get 
away  from  the  music  that  they  would  run  toward 
the  enemy. 

One  of  the  greatest  nuisances  of  the  entertain 
ment  business,  the  theatre  and  all  other  "  shows,'' 
is  the  persistent  "  deadhead."  Every  good  fel 
low  in  the  profession  likes  so  much  to  have  his 
friends  see  his  performance  that  he  provides  free 
tickets  to  the  extent  of  his  ability,  often  paying 
cash  for  them.  But  people  who  are  not  friends 
— some  who  are  not  even  acquaintances,  are  the 
most  determined  deadheads ;  to  have  heard  about 
their  deceased  mother-in-law  is  reason  enough — 
153 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

to  them,  for  a  demand  for  a  free  ticket.  Yet  a 
man  on  the  stage  or  platform  is  sometimes 
startled  by  seeing  close  personal  friends  in  the 
line,  cash  in  hand,  at  the  box-office,  and  is  re 
minded  of  the  story  Senator  Jones  of  Nevada 
tells  about  crossing  a  river  out  west.  He  reached 
the  ferry  but  no  boat  was  there.  He  saw  a  man 
across  the  stream  chopping  wood,  so  he  shouted, 
"  Hello,  there !  Where's  the  boat  ?  " 

"No  boat,  wade  across,"  was  the  man's  an- 


_  t 

The  Passengers  Consisted  of  Three  Men  and  a  Half. 

swer,  "  and  I  will  direct  you.  Walk  ten  feet  to 
the  right, — five  feet  to  the  left.  Look  out — 

there's  a  d big  hole  there  !     Now  three  feet 

to  the  right."  Arriving  on  the  other  side  of  the 
stream,  the  senator  asked,  "What  shall  I  pay 
you  ?  " 

154 


THE  UNEXPECTED 

"  Wa-all,"  said  the  man,  "there's  been  a  dozen 
men  across  this  ferry,  and  you  are  the  first  that 
ever  offered  to  pay  anything,  so  I  guess  I'll  let 
you  dead-head  it." 

Occasionally  the  unexpected  is  delightful  in 
the  extreme. 

Before  Charles  Frohman  became  the  busiest 
man  and  Napoleon  of  the  dramatic  stage,  he 
used  to  affiliate  frequently  with  the  Lambs' 
Club,  of  which  he  was  a  member.  One  day  the 
Lambs  gave  what  they  call  their  "washing," 
otherwise  their  summer  treat  or  picnic,  at  an 
island  in  the  sound  owned  by  Lester  "Wallack. 
At  high  tide  boats  could  land  passengers  on  the 
island,  and  in  the  morning  the  Lambs  were  safely 
landed.  But  at  night  the  steamer  which  brought 
us  was  anchored  out  about  a  half  mile  from  the 
shore.  "When  the  entertainment  was  at  an  end, 
the  members  had  to  be  rowed  in  small  boats  to 
the  steamer.  The  oarsman  of  the  boat  I  was  in 
was  a  large,  corpulent  chap.  The  passengers 
consisted  of  Charles  Frohman,  also  a  heavy 
weight,  George  Fawcett  and  myself,  making 
three  men  and  a  half.  This  weighed  the  boat 
down  to  almost  within  an  inch  of  the  water,  and 
coupled  with  the  fact  that  neither  Mr.  Frohman, 
Mr.  Fawcett  nor  myself  could  swim,  I  fully  ex 
pected  it  would  be  our  last  sail,  but  we  reached 
the  steamer  in  safety.  One  little  false  move  on 
155 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

the  part  of  either  of  us  would  have  caused  the 
head  of  the  Dramatic  Syndicate,  an  excellent 
actor  and  "  Merrily  Yours "  to  be  busy — for  a 
moment  or  two,  in  "  Davy  Jones's  Locker." 

Augustus  Pitou  tells  a  suggestive  story  of  the 
unexpected.  Late  at  night  he  asked  for  a  barber 
at  a  hotel.  It  was  "  after  hours,"  but  after  much 
delay  one  appeared  and  asked  as  a  favor  of  Mr. 
Pitou  if  he  would  kindly  lie  on  the  lounge  and 
let  him  shave  him  in  a  horizontal  position.  Mr. 
Pitou  consented.  The  touch  was  so  gentle  he 
fell  asleep.  When  he  awoke  and  felt  of  his  chin 
he  said : 

"  That's  the  gentlest  shave  I  have  ever  had." 

"  "Well,  sir,  you  are  the  first  live  man  I  have 
ever  shaved." 

The  man  was  an  undertaker's  barber ! 

Nat  Goodwin  tells  how  Billy  Mannering,  a 
brilliant  old  time  negro  comedian,  sprang  the  un 
expected  on  a  hotel  proprietor.  The  company 
was  having  hard  luck  on  one  night  stands. 
Country  hotels  were  as  bad  in  those  days  as  now 
— even  worse.  The  bo}^s  were  eating  breakfast, 
one  morning  when  Bill  came  down  late  and  said  : 

"  Boys,  how  is  it  ?  About  the  same  as  all  the 
rest  of  the  hotels  ?  " 

''Yes,  Billy." 

In  came  the  proprietor  and  said :  "  Good- 
morning,  gentlemen." 

156 


THE  UNEXPECTED 

Billy  asked  :     "  Who  are  you  ?  " 

"  I'm  the  proprietor,  sir." 

"  So  you're  the  proprietor !  Do  you  know  you 
are  a  brave  man  ?  If  I  were  you,  I  would  live 
out  in  the  woods,  and  not  come  near  the  hotel. 
I  would  be  afraid  to  face  my  boarders." 

"  How's  that  ?     Are  not  the  beds  all  right  ?  " 

"  Yes,  but  we  can't  eat  our  beds.  Still,  you 
have  two  things  here  that  can't  be  improved  on." 

"  What  are  they  ?  "  asked  the  proprietor,  fill 
ing  out  his  chest. 

"  Why,  your  pepper  and  salt." 

I  played  the  unexpected  on  several  people 
aboard  a  certain  ocean  steamship,  on  which  my 
friend  Perugini  was  a  passenger.  Several  of  the 
ladies  on  board  became  enamored  of  "  Handsome 
Jack,"  and  were  very  anxious  to  be  introduced 
to  him.  They  made  me  their  confidant,  but 
Perry  was  not  much  of  a  "  masher  "  and  did  not 
care  to  meet  them.  At  this  time,  he  had  an 
affliction  of  which  I  am  glad  to  say  he  has  been 
cured ;  he  was  deaf.  One  morning  I  rapped  on 
his  stateroom  door,  and  getting  no  response,  I 
concluded  I  would  run  the  risk  and  go  in.  There 
he  lay,  sound  asleep.  His  valet  had  preceded 
me,  and  everything  looked  as  neat  and  cozy  as 
could  be.  Perry  did  not  hear  me,  no  matter 
what  noise  I  made.  I  went  on  deck,  found  four 
of  the  young  ladies  and  said  : 
157 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

"  Now's  your  chance  to  meet  Perugini ;  just  fol 
low  me."  They  accompanied  me  and  all  four 
looked  in  at  the  door,  but  were  afraid  to  go  in. 

"  Oh,  don't  he  look  lovely,"  said  one. 

"Isn't  he  charming — I  could  just  hug  him  !" 
said  another.  I  went  in ;  as  he  did  not  hear  me 
they  took  courage  and  one  by  one  they  stole  in 
and  got  near  to  Perugini.  I  slipped  toward  the 
door  and  quickly  closed  it.  The  girls  were  too 
frightened  even  to  cry  out.  Then  I  took  hold  of 
Jack  and  gave  him  a  shake  that  awakened  him. 
Poor  Jack !  He  was  more  frightened  than  the 
four  girls  put  together.  All  I  got  out  of  him 
when  he  and  I  got  on  deck  was, 

"  Oh,  Marsh  !     How  could  you  ?  " 

Kyrle  Belle w  was  a  passenger  on  the  same 
steamer.  My  acquaintance  with  Mr.  Bellew  is  a 
most  pleasant  one,  so  I  know  he  will  forgive  me 
if  I  detail  this  little  joke,  which,  like  all  my 
jokes,  was  played  in  good  nature. 

On  the  ship  he  wore  a  yachting  cap  and  a  full 
yachting  costume,  including  a  big  cord  around 
his  neck,  to  which  was  attached  a  telescope.  In 
the  evening  he  would  walk  up  to  the  side  of  the 
steamer,  pull  out  this  glass  full-length,  gaze  out 
on  the  ocean  at  some  distant  ship,  close  it  and 
again  walk  down  the  deck,  posing  in  an  effective 
manner,  seemingly  unconscious  of  the  amuse 
ment  he  afforded  the  other  passengers.  In  a 
158 


THE  UNEXPECTED 

burlesque  spirit  I  arranged,  as  best  I  could,  an 
imitation  of  him.  I  got  a  seaman's  trousers, 
blouse  and  hat,  and  extemporized  a  sort  of  wig 
as  like  to  my  friend's  as  possible ;  to  a  piece  of 
rope  about  my  neck  I  attached  a  Belfast  beer 
bottle.  At  a  safe  distance  I  walked  up  and  down 
the  deck  and  gave  the  passengers  the  benefit  of 
my  burlesque.  I  don't  believe  Bellew  ever  saw 
me.  If  he  had,  I  fear  it  would  have  been  my 
finish  •  still,  I  think  he  would  have  enjoyed  the 
practical  joke  afterward. 

Even  a  book-canvasser  can  be  floored  by  the 
unexpected.  James  Whitcomb  Kiley  tells  of  an 
insinuating  member  of  this  profession  who  rang 
the  bell  of  a  handsome  residence  and  when  a 
specially  aggressive  looking  servant  opened  the 
door  he  asked  politely  : 

"  Is  the  lady  in  ?  " 

"  What  do  ye  mane  ?  "  the  girl  asked.  "  I'd 
have  ye  know  we're  all  ladies  in  this  house  ! " 

In  another  part  of  this  book  I  have  referred  to 
entertainments  I  gave  at  an  insane  asylum — a 
place  where  the  unexpected  should  be  the  rule, 
to  the  performer.  But  at  the  Bloomingdale 
Asylum  I  once  saw  it  work  the  other  way,  and 
to  an  extent  that  was  pathetic  all  round.  Among 
the  inmates  were  Scanlon  and  Kernell — two  men 
who  had  thousands  of  times  delighted  great  audi 
ences  with  song  and  joke.  I  knew  of  their  pres 
159 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

ence  but  how  they  would  look  or  feel  I  had  no 
means  of  imagining. 

One  of  my  assistants  for  the  occasion  was  Miss 
Cynthia  Kogers  of  Toledo,  Ohio.  The  pro 
gramme  was  not  printed,  nor  arranged  in  detail, 
so  we  were  in  ignorance  as  to  what  songs  had 
been  selected.  Miss  Eogers  "  went  on  "  dressed 
as  an  Irish  lad,  beginning  in  a  copy  of  Scanlon's 
familiar  make-up,  the  most  popular  song  of  his 
own  composition,  "  Mollie  O." 

Everybody  looked  at  Scanlan.  His  face  was 
suddenly  aglow  with  interest.  His  lips  followed, 
word  by  word,  the  course  of  the  melody.  He 
raised  one  hand  and  motioned  as  if  he  were  di 
recting  the  music.  At  the  close  of  the  first 
verse,  when  the  building  shook  with  applause,  he 
smiled 'happily.  He  was  living  his  triumphs  over 
at  that  minute,  oblivious  to  his  surroundings. 
He  was  impatient  for  the  next  verse  ;  he  followed 
the  words  intently ;  his  face  was  flushed,  the  old 
inspiration  showed  in  his  eyes,  and  when  the  ap 
plause  broke  forth  again  he  laughed  and  bowed 
his  head. 

"  Did  you  see  that  man  ?  "  Miss  Rogers  asked 
me  a  second  later.  "  Did  you  ever  see  such  an 
expression?  Who  is  he — that  young  man  yon 
der,  with  his  head  bowed  ?  " 

"Why,  I  thought  you  must  have  known,"  I 
replied.    "  That's  Scanlon." 
160 


THE  UNEXPECTED 

"  Scanlon  the  actor  ?  " 

"  Yes.     The  author  of  your  song." 

Miss  Kogers  was  tearfully  uncertain,  as  she 
went  on  to  respond  to  an  encore,  whether  she 
had  done  right  or  wrong.  She  sang  "  In  It "  and 
the  "  Latch  Key  in  the  Door."  Then  Scanlon 
was  brought  back  to  us  and  Miss  Kogers  was  in 
troduced  to  him. 

"I  want  to  thank  you,"  he  said  simply.  "I 
felt  as  I  used  to,  you  know.  Some  day  I  will 
sing  it  again.  You  are  very  pretty  and  you  sing 
well." 

If  there  was  one  man  in  the  audience  blind  to 
the  pathos  of  the  scene  which  had  just  occurred 
it  was  Harry  Kernell,  the.  comedian.  He  had 
looked  on  quietly,  his  face  impassive,  his  hands 
clasped  loosely  over  one  knee.  He  smiled  when 
Scanlon  came  back  to  the  seat  just  in  front  of 
him ;  then  his  face  became  fixed  and  vacant  as 
before. 

Kernell  raised  his  face  again  as  his  wife  who 
had  been  sitting  beside  him,  left  her  seat.  He 
seemed  to  have  forgotten  her,  and  to  be  hearing 
nothing  and  seeing  nothing,  when  I  announced 
the  next  number  on  the  programme. 

"  We  have  a  pleasant  surprise  for  you,"  I  said, 
smiling  in  anticipation.     "  Mrs.  Kernell  is  here  ; 
she  came  up  to  see  her  husband,  my  old  friend, 
and  we  wouldn't  let  her  refuse  to  sing  for  you." 
161 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

But  Kernell  did  not  look  up  until  his  wife, 
Queenie  Yassar,  began  singing.  The  little  woman 
watched  him  tenderly.  The  poor  fellow  under 
stood.  After  that,  no  lover  could  have  been 
more  appreciative  than  he  was.  It  was  the  one 
voice  in  all  the  world  that  could  move  him.  Scan- 
Ion  turned  and  whispered  to  him,  but  Kernell's 
soul  was  in  the  song.  Quickly  he  looked  ten 
years  younger  than  he  does  ordinarily.  He, 
seemed  grateful  for  the  applause,  and  eager  for 
another  song,  and  another,  so  Mrs.  Kernell  sang 
"  Peggy  Cline,"  "  Sligo  "  and  "  The  Bowery." 

After  that  Kernell  sat  still  and  gloomy.  The 
spell  was  broken  that  had  made  him  young.  The 
deep  lines  came  back  on  his  face,  his  shoulders 
stooped  and  he  was  an  old  man  again,  listless  and 
helpless.  One  could  hardly  imagine  him  the  man 
that  scattered  sunshine  so  royally,  laughing  his 
way  to  fame,  building  his  triumphs  on  the  happi 
ness  he  gave  to  others. 

Miss  Claude  Rogers  played  a  mandolin  solo  of 
her  own  composing  with  "  II  Trovatore  "  for  an 
encore.  Later  she  played  again,  and  was  encored 
repeatedly.  As  for  me,  I  had  as  difficult  an  au 
dience  as  ever  confronted  a  humorist,  or  any 
other  sort  of  speaker,  but  the  success  was  com 
plete  and  the  fun  was  contagious.  It  was  curi 
ous  to  see  how  an  audience,  of  so  many  different 
states  of  mind,  could  be  affected  by  humor  and 
162 


THE  UNEXPECTED 

music.  I  have  had  far  less  appreciative  audiences 
among  sane  people,  and  have  been  at  my  wits' 
end  to  rouse  them.  Here  is  a  story  that  tells 
how  Digby  Bell  once  roused  a  cold  audience 
without  giving  offense ;  it  proved  the  biggest  hit 
of  his  act.  He  recently  had  to  deal  with  a  par 
ticularly  frigid  audience,  and  the  best  of  his  jokes 
met  with  but  indifferent  success.  There  happened 
to  be  a  little  flag  fastened  on  one  side  of  the  stage, 
and  the  humorist,  after  delivering  his  last  joke 
ineffectually,  ran  over,  gravely  pulled  the  banner 
down  to  half-mast  and  made  his  exit.  The  audi 
ence  appreciated  the  sarcastic  proceeding,  and 
applauded  him  till  he  was  obliged  to  give  them  a 
little  additional  entertainment,  and  this  time  he 
had  no  need  to  complain  of  their  appreciation. 


163 


CHAPTER  XII 

SUNSHINE  IN  SHADY  PLACES 

On  Blackwell's  Island. — Snakes  and  Snake  Charmers. — Insane 
People  as  Audiences. — A  Poorhouse  That  was  a  Large 
House. — I  am  Well  Known  by  Another  Profession. — Crim 
inals  are  not  Fools. — Some  Pathetic  Experiences. — The 
Largest  Fee  I  Ever  Received. 

FOE  many  years  the  late  Cornelius  Vander- 
bilt  paid  me  a  regular  salary  to  visit  a  lot 
of  charitable  institutions, — the  Almshouse, 
the  Penitentiary,  the  Newsboys'  Lodging  House 
and  a  number  of  other  places,  where  laughter 
was  not  part  of  the  regular  daily  exercises  and 
was  therefore  valued  most  highly.  One  of  the 
places  frequently  visited  was  the  Insane  Asylum 
on  Blackwell's  Island,  and  I  was  often  invited 
to  lunch  with  the  Superintendent.  A  harmless 
patient,  who  was  employed  as  waiter,  was  at 
times  quite  amusing  through  her  faculty  for  see 
ing  people  where  none  existed.  She  would  often 
stop  and  argue  indignantly  with  some  one  whom 
she  imagined  was  in  her  way,  and  to  see  how 
with  a  tray  of  dishes  in  her  hands  she  scolded 
the  empty  air,  was  first  very  funny  and  after 
ward  creepingly  uncanny.  Once  she  imagined 
164 


SUNSHINE  IN  SHADY  PLACES 

that  one  of  these  annoying  people  had  climbed 
upon  the  table,  and  she  attacked  him  so  savagely 
with  a  broom  that  we  had  to  have  a  new  set  of 
dishes  and  goblets. 

One  night  a  severe  storm  compelled  me  to  re 
main  at  the  Asylum.  My  friend  the  house-sur 
geon  gave  me  a  comfortable  room,  near  the  wing 
where  the  more  violent  patients  were  confined. 


"  For  God's  Sake  Come  !    There's  a  Woman 
in  my  Boom." 

In  the  middle  of  the  night,  one  of  these  began  to 
rave  and  scream  ;  his  appeals  for  help  were  piti 
ful.  I  put  my  head  out  of  my  door  and  asked  an 
attendant  what  was  the  matter. 

"  He's  seeing  snakes,"  was  the  reply,  "  but  he'll 
be  all  right  in  a  few  minutes."     Just  then  the 
165 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STREET 

man  informed  the  neighborhood  of  a  new  mis 
fortune,  by  shouting, 

"  For  God's  sake  come  to  me  quick.  There's  a 
woman  in  my  room !  "  Again  he  became  quiet 
and  the  attendant  said, 

"It's  all  right  now." 

"  Yes,"  I  replied :  "  she  must  have  been  a  snake 
charmer." 

I  always  found  insane  audiences  very  apprecia 
tive.  Probably  the  majority  of  them  were  "  out 
of  their  head  "  on  one  subject  only.  Certainly 
their  enjoyment  of  song  and  pantomime  was  very 
keen,  and  their  interest  in  my  exhibitions  of  ven 
triloquism  was  quite  pathetic.  Whenever  I  threw 
my  voice  in  a  certain  direction,  some  of  them 
would  look  under  chairs  and  tables,  in  search  of 
the  supposed  person  who  was  talking.  The  poor 
creatures  took  such  hold  of  my  sympathies  that  I 
exerted  mj^self  to  amuse  them  optically,  for  the 
eye  is  the  surest  route  to  the  wits.  I  would,  while 
on  the  platform,  make  quickly  different  articles  of 
colored  paper  and  give  them  to  the  patients, 
whose  pleasure  was  as  childlike  as  it  was  sincere. 

On  one  of  my  visits  I  was  startled  by  coming  face 
to  face  with  a  notice  which  read  "  Almshouse  wagon 
reserved  for  Marshall  P.  Wilder  and  party  from  12 
to  4."  On  inquiry  I  learned  that  this  wagon  was 
a  Pooh  Bah  among  vehicles,  serving  by  turns  as 
patrol  wagon,  ambulance  and  hearse,  so  it  took 
166 


SUNSHINE  IN  SHADY  PLACES 

some  jollying  of  myself  to  ward  off  gruesome 
imaginings  and  keep  my  risibilities  in  working 
order. 

At  one  of  the  Almshouse  entertainments  at 
which  the  room  was  packed,  I  said,  "This  is  the  first 
time  I  ever  knew  a  poor  house  to  be  such  a  large 
house,"  and  the  audience  "  caught  on "  as  quick 
as  a  flash. 

The  oniy  painful  experience  of  my  years  as  an 
entertainer  among  the  public  institutions  was  at 
the  Home  for  Consumptives,  at  Fordham.  The 
patients  were  cheerful  and  spirited,  as  consump 
tives  always  are,  and  they  seemed  to  enjoy  my 
jokes  mightily,  but  laughter  usually  brought  on 
violent  fits  of  coughing,  so  I  would  have  to  wait 
from  five  to  ten  minutes  after  a  joke,  before  I 
dared  venture  another. 

I  always  recall  with  pleasure  a  visit  to  Elmira, 
where  I  had  the  brightest  and  most  responsive 
audience  of  my  whole  career.  It  was  at  the 
State  Eeformatory,  and  there  were  three  or 
four  th6usand  prisoners  in  the  audience.  Mr. 
Brockway,  the  Superintendent,  said  he  would 
like  me  to  talk  about  ten  minutes,  and  asked 
kindly  if  that  would  be  too  long  to  talk  contin 
uously.  Before  I  appeared  he  said  to  the  boys, 

"  We  have  with  us  this  evening  Mr.  Marshall 
P.  Wilder.  How  many  of  you  know  him  ?  " 

Fully  three-quarters  of  that  great  assemblage 
167 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STREET 

raised  their  hands.  It  was  quite  flattering  to  be 
so  well  known  in  a  "  profession  "  as  cautious  and 
exclusive  as  theirs.  I  found  my  audience  so 
quick,  appreciative  and  responsive  that  instead  of 
restricting  myself  to  ten  minutes,  I  learned  after 
ward  that  I  had  talked  an  hour  and  thirty-five 
minutes ! 

It  may  be  argued  by  some  skeptics  that  these 


Laughter  was  not  Part  of  the  Daily  Exercises. 

boys  and  young  men,  being  prisoners,  were 
grateful  for  any  entertainment  that  would  break 
the  monotony  of  their  daily  routine,  but  I  pre 
fer  to  believe  their  appreciation  was  due  entirely 
to  their  native  cleverness.  It  takes  brains  to 
place  and  accomplish  anything,  whether  legal  or 
illegal,  and  prisoners  of  the  class  that  is  sent  to 
168 


SUNSHINE  IK  SHADY  PLACES 

the  Reformatory  have  proved  their  ability  to 
think,  or  they  would  not  be  there.  There  are 
thousands  of  clever  men  who  are  good,  and  of 
good  men  who  are  stupid,  but  among  criminals 
the  rule  is  not  reversible,  for  I  have  yet  to  see  a 
criminal  who  is  a  fool. 

I  met  many  interesting  and  pathetic  personali 
ties  while  engaged  in  the  institutions.  One  old 
man  in  the  Home  for  Incurables  was  so  badly 
paralyzed,  that  he  could  move  only  his  hands, 
and  these  but  a  few  inches.  He  would  lie  all  day 
on  his  back,  with  his  hands  on  his  chest,  holding 
a  little  switch  broken  from  a  peach-tree,  with 
which  he  would  gently  scratch  his  face  and  head. 
This  was  his  only  occupation  and  pleasure ;  it  was 
also  the  limit  of  his  ability  to  move.  Yet  this 
pitiable  old  man  was  always  smiling  and  happy ; 
he  would  have  repelled  the  idea  that  he  was  un 
fortunate,  for  he  was  constantly  recounting  his 
blessings  and  comforts — his  bed,  his  food,  his 
kindly  attention,  and  not  the  least  of  all,  his  little 
peach-twig. 

Another  interesting  case  in  the  same  Home  was 
a  feeble  minded  boy — almost  an  imbecile.  His 
physical  development  was  perfect;  he  was 
healthy  and  very  strong,  yet  his  vacant  eyes, 
dropped  jaw  and  frontal  expression  of  head  in 
dicated  plainly  a  sad  lack  of  wits.  He  was  gen 
tle  and  tractable  and  devoted  to  the  matron,  who 
169 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

by  demonstration  had  taught  him  how  to  be  use 
ful  in  many  ways.  His  strength  was  utilized  in 
moving  helpless  patients  from  bed  to  chairs,  or 
vice  versa,  and  he  had  been  taught  to  change 
the  beds  and  do  other  work  in  the  men's  ward  as 
neatly  as  a  woman. 

But  his  chief  duty,  and  one  at  which  he  ex 
celled,  was  to  act  as  baker  for  the  institution. 


It  Takes  Brains  to  Accomplish  Anything. 

The  matron  had  taught  him,  and  he  had  followed 
her  method  so  faithfully  that  every  day  he 
dropped  a  little  flour  on  the  floor  and  then  wiped 
it  up ;  the  matron  had  chanced  to  this  "  aside  "  in 
the  first  lesson,  so  it  was  impossible  to  convince 
the  boy  that  this  was  not  a  necessary  detail  of 
bread-making.  His  bread  was  delicious  too ;  he 
made  thirty-six  loaves  every  day  in  a  triple  oven 
holding  three  pans  of  twelve  loaves  each,  and 
170 


SUNSHINE  IN  SHADY  PLACES 

never  had  a  failure.     Being  exact  in  every  way, 
his  success  was  always  assured. 

One  old  woman,  who  might  have  been  ad 
mitted  to  this  admirable  home,  refused  to  enter 
it ;  she  said  she  preferred  the  Almshouse.  She 
had  been  wealthy  in  her  youth  but,  through  un 
bridled  extravagance,  had  been  reduced  to 
poverty  so  dire,  that  for  years  she  had  eked  out 
a  miserable  existence  by  selling  newspapers. 
When  she  became  too  ill  and  feeble  to  do  even 
this,  it  was  suggested  that  she  should  enter  the 
Home  for  Incurables,  but  she  refused,  saying  that 
she  would  go  to  no  private  institution,  but  to  the 
poorhouse,  which,  when  she  was  rich,  she  had 
helped  to  maintain.  A  charitable  gentleman 
who  would  have  helped  her,  and  to  whom  she  ex 
pressed  her  desire,  assured  her  that  she  should 
have  her  choice  in  the  matter,  foolish  though  it 
was.  She  asked  him  if  instead  of  being  conveyed 
in  the  almshouse  wagon,  she  might  be  moved  in 
some  other  way  ;  her  would-be  benefactor  assured 
her  she  should  go  in  his  own  carriage,  and  he 
himself  would  be  her  escort.  He  invited  me  to 
accompany  them,  I  having  already  met  the  old 
woman  and  been  interested  in  her.  At  the  ap 
pointed  time  we  called  for  her  and  as  she  stepped 
into  the  carriage  she  was  visibly  elated  by  the 
thought  of  once  more  going  through  the  streets 
in  a  manner  like  that  of  her  wealthy  days.  She 
171 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

had  dressed  for  the  occasion  in  style  truly  won 
derful.  Her  bonnet,  though  of  startling  con 
struction,  commanded  attention  by  its  antiquity  ; 
a  rag  of  a  camel's  hair  shawl  was  pinned  tightly 
across  her  narrow  chest;  a  black  silk  reticule 
hung  from  one  thin  arm,  which  was  encased  in  a 
long  suede  glove,  boasting  the  special  advantage 
of  leaving  her  fingers  free  while  her  other  hand 


She  had  Dressed  in  a  Style  Truly  Wonderful. 

was  covered  with  a  lace  mitt  of  antique  fashion. 

During  the  drive  she  sat  stiffly  erect,  gazed 

with  scorn  at  people  who  were  merely  walking, 

and  occasionally  dropped  a  stiff,  formal  speech, 

after  the  manner  of  polite  conversation  in  her 

youthful  days.     "When   we  had  almost  reached 

our  destination,  she  said  to  my  friend  her  escort : 

172 


SUNSHINE  IN  SHADY  PLACES 

"  For  your  extreme  kindness  to  me,  I  should 
like  to  bestow  upon  you  a  slight  remembrance, 
something  saved  from  the  beautiful  things  I 
once  owned."  She  put  her  hand  into  her  ret 
icule  and  we  expected  to  see  a  trinket  such  as 
women  prize,  but  she  pulled  out  a  pistol  and  ap 
parently  leveled  it  at  my  friend.  "We  gasped, 
instantly  convinced  that  she  had  lost  the  tiny  bit 
of  sanity  that  was  left  to  her,  but  in  a  second  we 
saw  that  she  was  presenting  it  to,  not  at,  him. 
It  was  a  pretty  toy  with  a  pearl  handle  and  in 
laid  with  silver,  but,  like  herself,  rusty  and 
dilapidated.  It  was  her  last  bit  of  elegance  and 
all  the  poor  creature  had  to  offer  in  token  of  her 
gratitude. 

A  touching  feature  of  this  Home  was  the  man 
ner  of  furnishing  the  rooms  for  the  pay  patients. 
When  the  wing  for  this  class  of  inmates  was 
built  it  was  believed  that  a  long  time  would 
elapse  before  there  would  be  money  enough  in 
the  treasury  to  furnish  the  rooms.  A  kind 
hearted  woman  who  visited  the  house  weekly 
with  donations  of  snuff,  tobacco  and  candy  con 
ceived  a  clever  plan.  She  had  just  lost  her 
mother,  in  whose  name  she  presented  the  entire 
furnishings  of  her  mother's  room  to  the  Home. 
Word  of  this  got  abroad  ;  other  people  followed 
her  example  and  in  a  short  time  the  entire  wing 
was  furnished  in  similar  manner;  so  now  the 
173 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

visitor  to  the  home  sees  a  wing  of  four  stories, 
the  halls  lined  with  doors  on  each  of  which  is  a 
brass  plate  engraved  with  the  name  of  the  person 
who  furnished  the  room  in  memory  of  parent, 
brother,  sister  or  child. 

This  is  an  appropriate  place  in  my  story  to  tell 
of  the  largest  fee  I  ever  received  for  entertain 
ing,  for  although  the  giver  was  not  heartily  in 
terested  in  a  public  institution,  he  was  en  route 
for  one. 

I  was  traveling  in  the  West  and  looking  about 
the  railway  car  for  a  friend,  an  acquaintance  or 
even  some  one  with  whom  I  might  scrape  ac 
quaintance,  for  I  don't  enjoy  being  alone  a  long 
time,  when  I  saw,  in  one  end  of  the  car,  an 
officer  with  a  prisoner.  It  did  not  take  long  to 
see  that  the  prisoner  was  handcuffed,  his  feet 
were  shackled  to  the  bottom  of  the  seat,  and  be 
hind  him  were  two  guards  with  revolvers  in 
hand  Evidently  the  prisoner  was  of  some  con 
sequence,  although  he  looked  like  a  mere  boy. 
He  sat  with  bowed  head  and  a  hopeless  look  on 
his  white  face.  His  eyes,  which  in  so  young  a 
man  ought  to  have  been  bright  and  merry,  were 
downcast  and  full  of  gloom. 

I  ventured  over  to  the  party  and  soon  recog 
nized  one  of  the  guards,  as  a  man  I  had  seen  in  a 
similar  capacity  at  the  Elmira  Eeformatory.  In 
reply  to  my  questions  about  the  prisoner,  he  told 
174 


SUNSHINE  IN  SHADY  PLACES 

me  that  the  youth  had  been  brought  on  extradi 
tion  proceedings  from  England,  after  evading 
capture  a  long  time.  His  crime  had  been  pecul 
iarly  atrocious  and  he  was  now  being  taken  to 
Kansas  City  for  trial. 

I  was  sorry  for  the  officer  and  guards,  as  well 
as  for  the  prisoner,  for  there  can't  be  much  that's 
cheery  in  hunting  down  and  manacling  a  fellow 
man,  no  matter  how  bad  he  may  be.  Besides, 
they  looked  about  as  uncomfortable  as  the  pris 
oner,  so  I  got  off  a  joke  or  two  to  brace  them 
up.  Soon  the  prisoner  raised  his  head  and  mani 
fested  a  trace  of  interest.  Then  I  asked  if  I 
might  try  some  card  tricks  on  them.  Of  course 
I  might ;  it's  hard  to  find  a  man  so  troubled,  that 
he  won't  forget  his  misery  a  moment  or  two  over 
a  card  trick. 

All  the  men  in  the  car  were  soon  looking  on, 
but  I  kept  my  eye  and  heart  on  the  prisoner ;  no 
matter  what  he  deserved,  it  was  plain  to  see 
what  he  needed.  The  poor  wretch  became  thor 
oughly  aroused  from  his  dejection,  so  I  sand 
wiched  tricks  and  stories  and  saw  him  "  pick  up" 
a  little  more  after  each  one.  I  "  played  at  him," 
and  him  alone,  as  actors  sometimes  do  at  one 
man  in  a  theatre  audience.  It  was  a  big  con 
tract,  and  I  was  a  small  man,  but  I  was  bound 
to  see  it  through.  It  took  two  hours  of  hard 
work,  but  at  the  end  of  that  time  the  prisoner 
175 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

was  an  entirely  different  man  in  appearance. 
His  eyes  were  bright,  the  color  had  come  back 
to  his  cheeks,  his  whole  manner  had  changed ; 
he  had  forgotten  his  past  and  for  the  moment  he 
was  a  man  again.  When  we  were  near  Kansas 
City,  he  asked  me  if  I  wouldn't  shake  hands  with 
him,  and  he  said  that  I  could  never  know  what 
my  kindness  in  the  past  two  hours  had  been  to 
him.  The  look  he  gave  me,  as  1  clasped  his 
manacled  hand,  was  the  biggest  pay  I  ever  got 
in  my  life. 


176 


XIII 
"BUFFALO  BILL" 

He  Works  Hard  but  Jokes  Harder. — He  and  I  Stir  up  a  Section 
of  Paris. — In  Peril  of  a  Mob. — My  Indian  Friends  in  the 
Wild  West  Company. — Bartholdi  and  Cody. — English  Be 
wilderment  Over  the  "Wild  West"  People. —Major 
"Jack"  Burke. — Cody  as  a  Stage-driver. — Some  of  His 
Western  Stories. — When  He  Had  the  Laugh  on  Me. 

MY  acquaintance  with  Col.  William  F. 
Cody— "Buffalo  Bill"— dates  back  to 
a  time  when  I  was  a  boy  at  Hartford 
and  he  was  an  actor  in  Ned  Buntline's  play  "  The 
Prairie  Waif."     His  life  had  been  strenuous  in 
the  extreme  ever  since  he  was  thirteen  years  of 
age,  but  neither  hardship  nor  danger  had  ever 
suppressed  his  inherent  merriment  and  his  long 
ing  to  get  a  joke  out  of  something  or  on  some 
body. 

Our  acquaintance  was  renewed  at  Rochester, 
where  I  had  for  schoolmate  his  only  son,  Kit 
Carson  Cody,  named  for  a  famous  scout  of  fifty 
years  ago.  The  death  of  this  boy  was  a  great  and 
lasting  grief  to  his  father,  and  his  memory  be 
came  more  and  more  a  link  to  bind  the  Colonel 
and  me  together,  so  in  time  we  formed  a  close 
177 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

and  lasting  friendship.  Whenever  we  chanced  to 
be  in  the  same  city  we  were  together  so  much 
that  we  became  nicknamed  "  The  Corsican 
Brothers." 

When  the  "  Wild  West "  Company  first  went 
to  Paris  I  was  one  of  Buffalo  Bill's  guests  for 
several  weeks.  The  Paris  shopkeepers  and  thea 
tre  managers  had  heard  of  the  enormous  success 
of  the  "  Wild  West "  in  England  and  some  of 
them,  who  feared  it  might  divert  money  which 
otherwise  would  find  its  way  into  their  pockets, 
arranged  for  a  powerful  "  clacque  "  on  the  open 
ing  day,  not  to  applaud  but  to  disturb  the  per 
formance  and  discourage  Cody,  so  that  he  would 
leave  the  city.  They  did  not  know  their  man,  so 
they  had  only  their  expense  for  their  pains.  Be 
sides,  even  a  Paris  mob,  which  is  said  to  be  the 
meanest  in  the  world,  would  think  twice  before 
"  demonstrating  "  much  in  the  face  of  an  arena 
full  of  Indians  and  crack  shots.  The  performance 
went  on  with  little  or  no  annoyance,  but  after  it 
ended  a  great  crowd  burst  into  the  ring  and 
almost  caused  a  riot.  Suddenly  another  French 
peculiarity  was  manifested ;  a  single  gendarme 
worked  his  way  to  the  centre  of  the  crowd  and 
fired  a  bullet  from  his  pistol ;  in  an  instant  the 
multitude  dispersed.  The  worst  of  the  French 
people  respect  the  majesty  of  the  law — when  it 
is  backed  by  firearms. 

178 


"BUFFALO  BILL" 

I  soon  duplicated,  as  well  as  I  could,  the  Colo 
nel's  plains  costume,  which  he  always  wore  in 
the  streets  as  an  advertisement.  I  too  appeared 
in  buckskin  trousers,  fringed  leggings,  pistol  belt 
and  broad  sombrero  hat.  I  must  have  looked 
like  an  animated  mushroom,  but  the  Parisians 
were  quick  to  note  the  resemblance  and  to  dub 
me  "  le  petit  Buffalo  Bill."  Cody  himself  gener 
ally  called  me  his  "  stove-in-pard." 

One  morning  the  Colonel  went  out  to  be 
shaved  and  asked  me  to  accompany  him.  As 
both  were  dressed  in  wild  west  costume,  to  which 
the  colonel  had  added  a  pair  of  pistols  and  a 
knife,  a  large  crowd  followed  on  and  lingered 
about  the  shop  we  entered.  A  Parisian  shop 
keeper  generally  has  his  wife  with  him,  to  act  as 
cashier  and  general  manager,  and  the  barber  to 
whom  we  had  gone  had  a  chic  and  attractive 
wife,  regarding  whom  Cody  and  I  exchanged  ad 
miring  remarks  in  English,  at  the  risk  of  the  bar 
ber  understanding  us  and  becoming  disagreeable. 
Then  Cody  seated  himself  and  asked  the  barber : 

"  Do  you  speak  English  ?  " 

"  Non,  m'sieur," — with  apologetic  eyebrows 
and  shoulders.  The  colonel  thrust  his  hands 
into  his  long  orown  curls  and  said : 

"  I  want  you  to  put  a  little  oil  on  my  hair  and 
rub  it  in  ;  compre  ?  " 

"  Oui,  oui,  m'sieur." 

179 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

Then  Bill  asked  :  "  Marsh,  what  is  French  for 
shave  ?  " 

My  French  was  as  limited  as  his,  so  I  replied  : 

"  '  Kazoo,'  I  guess." 

"  And  I  want  you  to  razoo  my  face,  compre  ?  " 

"  Oui,  oui,  m'sieur." 

The  barber  shaved  his  customer,  but  he  had 
mistaken  the  sign  language  of  Cody's  first  order, 
for  he  raised  a  pair  of  shears  to  clip  the  Colonel's 
long  hair — one  of  his  most  treasured  possessions 
and  features  ;  in  fact,  like  Samson  of  Biblical 
fame,  his  hair  was  the  secret  of  his  strength. 
Just  as  the  barber  lifted  a  lock  and  posed  the 
shears  for  the  first  snip  Bill  saw  the  situation  in 
a  mirror.  With  a  cowboy  yell  that  would  have 
made  a  Comanche  Indian  green  with  envy  he 
sprang  from  the  chair  to  save  his  hair.  The 
barber,  who  had  been  working  with  bated 
breath,  appalled  by  the  savage  appearance  of  his 
customer,  dropped  his  shears  and  his  knees 
shook,  as,  with  chattering  teeth,  he  begged  for 
mercy.  The  wife's  screams  added  to  the  con 
fusion,  the  lingering  crowd  pressed  in  and  was 
reinforced  by  a  gendarme  who  began  a  rapid  fire 
of  questions  in  excited  French.  No  explanations 
that  were  offered  in  either  tongue  were  compre 
hended  by  the  parties  who  spoke  the  other  lan 
guage  and,  as  the  barber  seemed  consumed  with 
a  desire  to  get  rid  of  us,  we  hurried  away  in  a 
180 


"BUFFALO   BILL" 

cab,  the  barber's  wife  following  us  with  a  tor 
rent  of  imprecations — and  she  so  pretty,  too  ! 

One  day,  while  the  show  was  at  Paris,  we  saw 
a  distinguished  looking  man  pressing  against  the 
rope  stretched  around  Colonel  Cody's  tent. 
When  he  found  opportunity  he  said,  in  excellent 
English  : 


"  We  hurried  away 


"  Pardon  me,  Colonel  Cody,  but  I  should  like 
to  speak  to  you.  I  have  many  friends  in  your 
great  country  —  a  country  for  which  I  have  a  sin 
cere  admiration." 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  see  you."  the  colonel  re- 
181 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

plied  wearily ;  he  had  heard  this  same  speech  so 
often.  "  May  I  ask  your  name  ?  " 

"  My  name  is  Bartholdi,"  modestly  replied  the 
sculptor  whose  magnificent  statue,  "  Liberty  En 
lightening  the  World,"  has  endeared  him  to 
Americans.  From  the  moment  he  made  himself 
known  to  Cody  he  "  owned  the  show." 

Indians  generally  manifest  extreme  suspicion 
of  white  men,  but  while  I  was  Colonel  Cody's 
guest  I  made  friends  of  some  of  the  chiefs  and 
braves,  especially  Red  Shirt  and  Flat  Iron.  The 
former,  a  famous  scout  and  warrior,  has  been 
called  "  The  Red  Napoleon  "  for  his  knowledge 
of  military  tactics,  his  commanding  dignity  and 
reserve.  He  has  a  fine  physique,  and  a  noble 
head,  while  his  bearing  is  absolutely  regal.  He 
has  always  been  friendly  to  the  whites,  and  was 
a  valuable  ally  of  Buffalo  JBill  in  many  raids 
against  his  unruly  brethren. 

I  knew  Red  Shirt  was  fond  of  me,  but  no  one 
else  would  have  imagined  it  from  his  manner 
toward  me,  for  your  Indian  friend  does  not  slap 
you  on  the  back  or  buttonhole  you  with  a  joke, 
after  the  manner  of  white  men.  Later  I  learned 
of  the  earnestness  of  his  regard  through  a  story 
told  me  by  Bronco  Bill,  the  Wild  West  Com 
pany's  interpreter.  It  seems  that,  after  Red 
Shirt  had  left  the  company  for  a  few  months  and 
returned  to  his  reservation,  he  found  an  old  illus- 
182 


" BUFFALO  BILL" 

trated  paper  in  which  was  a  portrait  he  thought 
was  mine.  He  could  not  verify  it,  for  he  was 
unable  to  read.  Although  the  winter  had  set  in 
and  snow  was  deep  on  the  ground  he  rode  twenty 
miles  to  the  home  of  Bronco  Bill  to  ask  if  the 
face  was  mine.  Being  assured  that  it  really  was 
a  picture  of  his  friend,  he  took  it  back  home  and 
fastened  it  to  the  wall  of  his  cabin — an  unusual 
proceeding,  for  an  Indian  regards  it  beneath  his 
dignity  to  indicate  emotion,  even  among  his  own 
people. 

When  the  Wild  West  was  last  at  Madison 
Square  Garden,  I  again  met  Ked  Shirt  and  Flat 
Iron.  The  former  was  very  glad  to  see  me,  so 
the  interpreter  told  me,  and  I  had  reason  to  be 
lieve  it,  but  no  bystander  would  have  imagined 
it  from  his  reserved  manner  and  impassive  face. 
Flat  Iron,  who  is  an  exception  to  almost  all  In 
dians  in  having  a  twinkling  eye  and  vivacious 
manner,  rapidly  asked  me  many  questions :  was 
I  stronger  ? — had  I  a  squaw  ? — etc.  The  fact 
that  I  was  unmarried  had  worried  him  so  greatly 
in  the  earlier  days  of  our  friendship  that  he  of 
fered  to  select  me  a  charming  squaw  from  among 
his  own  grandchildren. 

Flat  Iron  is  a  shrewd  financier,  with  a  money 

getting  system  peculiarly  his  own,  which  he  had 

worked  successfully  on  many  whites.     In  New 

York,  he  sometimes  walked  alone,  in  a  street  full 

183 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

of  people,  muttering  to  himself  and  staring  at  the 
sky.  When  he  saw  that  he  had  excited  curiosity 
— and  an  Indian  can  see  out  of  the  back  of  his 
head  as  well  as  out  of  both  sides  of  it,  he  would 
stop,  place  several  nickels, — never  pennies,  on  the 


"  He  offered  to  select  me  a  charming  squaw." 

sidewalk,  and  make  solemn  "  passes  "  over  them, 
as  if  doing  an  incantation  act.  Occasionally  he 
would  look  aside,  and  indicate  by  signs  that  the 
observers  should  add  to  the  number  of  nickels, 
These  additions  he  would  arrange  in  geometric 
figures,  which  always  lacked  some  point  or  line. 
184 


"  BUFFALO  BILL" 

Bystanders  would  supply  the  deficiency,  the  coins 
would  be  rearranged,  still  with  missing  parts,  and 
the  mysterious  passes  would  continue,  accom 
panied  by  solemn  gazes  heavenward.  This  pan 
tomime  would  continue  until  the  crowd  had 
parted  with  all  its  nickels ;  then  suddenly  the  old 
man  would  pick  up  the  entire  collection,  stow  it 
in  his  pocket  and  stalk  off  as  jauntily  as  a  broker 
who  has  succeeded  in  unloading  a  lot  of  wild 
cat  stocks  on  a  confiding  public. 

While  the  Wild  West  was  at  Manchester  I  had 
my  hundredth  laugh — perhaps  it  was  my  thou 
sandth,  at  the  density  of  intelligent  Englishmen's 
ignorance  regarding  American  people  and  ways. 
Colonel  Cody,  his  partner  and  business  manager, 
"  Nate  Salsbury,"  were  standing  together,  when 
an  Englishman  approached  and  asked  for  Mr. 
Salsbury.  Nate  asked  what  he  could  do  for  him 
and  the  man  replied  : 

"  I'm  the  Greffic." 

"  The  wha-at  ?  " 

"The  Greffic— the  London  Greffic.  I  make 
sketches,  don'  cher  know  ?  " 

"  Oh !  The  London  Graphic  f  All  right. 
Sail  right  in.  You  might  begin  with  Cody." 

"  And  who  is  Cody  ?  "  the  artist  asked. 

"  Why,  Cody  is  Buffalo  Bill !  "—Salsbury  al 
most  screamed,  he  was  so  amazed. 

"  And  does  he  speak  English  ?  " 
185 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

It  may  be  admitted,  in  explanation,  that  some 
artists  are  as  ignorant  as  idiots  of  anything  but 
their  own  profession.  But  list  to  a  tale  of  an 
American  lady  and  an  English  clergyman  who 
was  an  Oxford  graduate  and  a  great  reader. 
He  was  also  of  charming  manner  and  conversed 
brilliantly.  The  lady  was  the  first  American  he 
had  ever  met,  and  he  confessed  to  her  that  he 
was  startled  by  her  complexion,  for  he  had  sup 
posed  that  all  inhabitants  of  this  country  were 
copper-colored  !  When  she  spoke  of  driving  near 
her  own  home  the  clergyman  said : 

"Er — may  I  ask  if  you  drive  the  native  ani 
mals  ?  " 

" '  The  native  animals  ? ' "  the  mystified  lady 
echoed. 

"  Yes  ; — the  elk,  and  moose,  and  buffalo,  you 
know." 

A  notable  "  character  "  of  the  Wild  West  or 
ganization  was  Major  Burke.  He, was  so  witty 
and  genial  that  every  one  liked  him  at  first 
sight.  The  Indians  almost  worshiped  him  and 
his  authority  over  them  was  unquestioned.  He 
had  been  made  a  member  of  one  tribe  by  the 
"  blood  brotherhood  "  ceremony,  but  it  had  not 
needed  this  to  make  him  regarded  as  "big 
medicine"  by  all  the  others.  He  had  been 
associated  with  Buffalo  Bill  ever  since  "The 
Prairie  Waif"  days,  and,  though  his  nominal 
186 


"BUFFALO  BILL" 

position  with  the  "Wild  West  was  that  of  press- 
agent,  he  was  an  all-round  and  indispensable  part 
of  the  management.  His  quick  wits  have  served 
on  many  occasions  to  put  an  end  to  difficulties 
which  less  able  men  would  have  endured.  For 
instance,  on  one  occasion  a  number  of  women 
were  standing  on  the  front  benches  and  obstruct 
ing  the  view  of  a  hundred  or  more  people  behind 
them.  Burke  shouted, — though  his  voice  was 
smooth  and  exquisitely  modulated, — 

"Will  the  beautiful  young  lady  in  front 
please  sit  down  ? "  And  twenty-eight  women 
dropped  as  one. 

Long  before  he  went  on  the  stage  Colonel 
Cody  had  earned  several  desirable  reputations 
in  the  West.  One  was  as  a  stage-driver,  in 
which  capacity  he  was  so  much  talked  of  that 
several  Englishmen  who  went  West  insisted  on 
riding  in  his  coach.  They  made  so  much  fuss 
about  it,  even  in  anticipation,  that  Bill  resolved 
to  give  them  a  ride  they  would  remember  as 
long  as  they  lived.  His  only  special  preparation 
was  to  fill  his  pockets  with  pebbles.  The  four 
mules  started  at  a  good  pace,  at  which  the  passen 
gers  expressed  delight.  At  the  first  down-grade, 
the  driver  pelted  the  mules  furiousty  with  the 
pebbles ;  their  rough  hides  would  have  been  in 
sensible  to  the  whip.  Soon  the  pace  became 
terrific,  for  the  shower  of  pebbles  continued; 
187 


THE  SU^NY  SIDE  OF  THE  STBEET 

Cody  looked  back,  saw  the  Englishmen  huddled 
on  the  front  seat,  and  shouted : 

"Sit  on  the  back  seat!" 

"  It's  no  use,  old  chap,"  one  of  the  frightened 
tourists  replied.  "  We've  just  left  there." 

When  Cody  is  not  acting  or  riding  or  fighting 
Indians  or  ranching  or  asleep  he  is  likely  to  be 
telling  stories,  and  he  has  so  many  that  it  is  hard 
for  him  to  tell  any  story  twice,  unless  by  special 
request.  One  that  has  been  frequently  called 
for  is  of  an  Eastern  man  who  was  employed  by 
Colonel  Cody  out  West.  The  man  had  not  been 
out  long  enough  to  know  the  illusive  tricks  of 
the  clear  atmosphere  of  the  plains  and  hills.  A 
picturesque  mountain,  that  seemed  only  a  mile 
away,  interested  him  so  greatly  that  he  started 
early  one  morning  to  visit  it  and  return  by 
breakfast  time.  He  didn't  return  for  three 
days.  A  few  days  later  the  colonel  saw  him 
beside  an  irrigating  ditch,  and  asked  him  what 
he  was  going  to  do,  for  the  man  was  taking  off 
his  clothes. 

"  I'm  goin'  to  swim  across  this  river,"  was  the 
reply. 

"  Swim  ?  Why  don't  you  jump  it  ?  It's  only 
three  feet  wide." 

"  Ye-es ;  I  know  it  looks  that  way,  but  I  ain't 
goin'  to  be  fooled  again." 

One  evening,  at  the  Hoffman  House,  he  told 
188 


"BUFFALO   BILL" 

this  story  to  two  or  three  friends  with  whom  he 
was  spending  the  evenings  while  he  was  General 
Sheridan's  chief  of  scouts.  There  was  "  a  little 
affair  "  in  camp  at  which  every  one  present  got 
drunk  but  Cody ;  he  had  determined  to  keep 
sober,  and  succeeded.  Toward  morning  he  went 
to  the  cottage  where  he  lived,  rapped  on  the 
window,  and  made  himself  known,  and  his  wife, 
who  refused  to  open  the  door,  said : 

"  Go  away,  whoever  you  are.  Colonel  Cody 
isn't  home  yet."  At  this  point  of  the  story  Cody 
laughed  and  continued  : 

"  Boys,  I'd  gone  home  sober,  and  my  wife 
didn't  know  me !  I  went  back  to  the  camp,  got 
as  full  as  any  one  else,  returned  to  my  house, 
approached  the  door  unsteadily,  fumbled  the 
latch,  and  my  wife's  voice  greeted  me,  saying : 

"'Is  that  you,  Willie?'" 

When  this  story  ended,  we  started  from  the 
Hoffman  House  for  the  Lambs'  Club,  which  was 
then  in  Twenty-sixth  Street.  With  Cody  and 
me  were  Steele  Mackaye  and  Judge  Gilder- 
sleeve,  both  of  whom  were  tall,  strong  men.  As 
we  neared  the  club  we  met  a  crowd  of  very 
tough-looking  men,  and  stood  aside  to  let  them 
pass,  which  they  did,  to  my  great  relief.  Then 
my  companions  got  the  laugh  on  me,  for  I  re 
marked  with  earnest  confidence : 

"  I'd  like  to  see  any  four  men  get  away  with  us  !  " 
189 


XIV 

THE  ART  OF  ENTERTAINING 

Not  aa  Easy  as  it  Would  Seem. — Scarcity  of  Good  Stories  for 
the  Purpose. — Drawing-room  Audiences  are  Fastidious. — 
Noted  London  Entertainers. — They  are  Guests  of  the  Peo 
ple  Who  Engage  Them. — London  Methods  and  Fees. — 
Blunders  of  a  Newly-wed  Hostess  from  America.  —Humor 
Displaces  Sentiment  in  the  Drawing-room. — My  Own  Ma 
terial  and  Its  Sources. 

AN  entertainer  always  leaves  a  pleasant 
impression  on  other  men ;  otherwise  he 
is   not  an   entertainer.     Sometimes   his 
gestures  and  manner  are  more  effective  than  his 
words.     Yet  he  is  not  necessarily  an  actor.     He 
is  a  sort  of  half-brother  of  the  man  on  the  stage, 
for,  like  the  actor,  he  must  endeavor  to  please 
his   entire   audience.     The   humorous  paper  or 
book,  if  it  is  not  to  the  reader's  taste,  may  be 
dropped  in  an  instant,  but  in  a  crowded  hall  or 
drawing  room  one  must  listen,  unless  he  is  deaf. 
So   the  entertainer  must   be  very  careful  in 
selecting  his  material.     Hundreds  of  jokes  that 
are  good  in  themselves  and  decent  enough  to  tell 
to  one's  wife  and  children  are  called  vulgar  by 
some  people  who  aren't  noted  for  refinement  in 
other  ways.     Other  stories  that  are  all  right  to 
190 


THE  AET  OF  ENTEETAINING 

try  on  your  minister  when  you  invite  him  to 
dinner,  are  shockingly  irreverent  to  some  folks 
who  never  go  to  church.  Every  man  knows  of 
honest  hearty  jokes  that  he  wouldn't  venture 
when  ladies  are  present,  but  entertainers  know 
of  some  stories  told  by  good  women  that  would 
make  all  the  men  in  a  drawing-room  face  toward 
the  wall.  Selecting  stories  for  society  is  almost 
as  dangerous  as  umpiring  a  baseball  game. 

John  Parry  was  the  original  entertainer  in  Eng 
land,  a  country  so  loyal  to  whoever  amuses  it  that 
it  honors  its  favorites,  even  after  they  have  lost 
the  power  of  pleasing.  He  wrote  many  sketches 
for  use  in  drawing-rooms  and  became  very  pop 
ular  and  successful.  The  entertainers  most  in 
vogue  in  England,  until  recently,  were  Corney 
Grain,  a  six-footer,  who  died  about  three  years 
ago  and  George  Grossmith,  whom  many  Ameri 
cans  remember  and  who  was  quite  prominent  in 
connection  with  D'Oyley  Carte  productions  of 
the  Gilbert  and  Sullivan  operas.  These  gentle 
men,  both  of  fine  appearance  and  manner,  had 
their  fill  of  engagements  throughout  the  London 
season,  going  from  one  drawing-room  to  another 
and  always  hailed  with  delight.  Their  mono 
logues  never  wearied,  no  matter  how  oft-repeated, 
for  it  is  an  amiable  characteristic  of  the  English 
man,  that  he  can  never  get  too  much  of  a  good 
thing.  The  American  goes  so  far  to  the  other 
191 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STREET 

extreme  that  he  will  stand  something  awfully 
bad  if  it  is  only  new. 

In  England,  the  jester's  arrangements  are  made 
with  great  ease  and  simplicity.  There  are  no 
annoying  business  details.  His  terms  of  fifteen 
or  twenty  pounds  an  evening  are  already  known, 
so  money  is  not  mentioned  by  him  or  his  host 
and  there  is  no  attempt  at  "  beating  down,"  such 
as  sometimes  occurs  in  bargaining  America.  He 
goes  to  the  house  and  the  table  as  a  guest  and  is 
treated  as  an  equal  by  the  hostess  and  her  com 
pany,  when  he  is  making  his  adieus,  which  he 
does  soon  after  completing  his  monologue,  a 
sealed  envelope  is  handed  him,  or  the  money 
reaches  him  at  his  hotel  in  the  morning,  and  let 
me  say  right  here  for  this  custom,  that  in  my 
own  hundreds  of  English  engagements  I  never 
lost  a  penny  through  bad  pay. 

Some  of  the  more  wealthy  people  do  not  limit 
themselves  to  the  customary  prices.  For  instance, 
Baron  de  Eothschild  often  pays  sixty  pounds  for 
an  entertainment  not  lasting  more  than  ten  min 
utes — a  little  matter  of  thirty  dollars  a  minute, 
and  by  a  strange  coincidence,  he  never  fails  to 
get  the  entertainer  he  wants ;  some  hosts  do. 

Most  of  my  own  London  engagements  are  in 

May  and  June,  up  to  July  when  the  Goodwood 

races  end  the  season.     They  are  made  some  time 

in  advance,   the  only  preliminary  on   my  part 

192 


THE  AET  OF  ENTEETAINING 

being  a  batch  of  letters  I  send  off  when  my 
steamer  reaches  Queenstovvn.  The  fast  mail 
reaches  London  before  me,  so  by  the  time  I 
reach  my  hotel,  some  replies  are  awaiting  me. 
The  receptions  usually  begin  at  ten  in  the  even 
ing.  The  hostess  does  not  announce  me  form 
ally,  as  if  she  owned  me,  body,  soul  and  breeches, 
but  asks  graciously  if  Mr.  Wilder  will  not  kindly 
favor  the  company  with  some  of  his  interesting 
experiences  or  reflections.  Then  I  mount  the 
piano,  or  a  chair,  if  the  affair  is  a  dinner  party, 
and  the  other  guests  listen  politely,  instead  of  all 
beginning  to  talk  on  their  own  account. 

Entertainers  almost  never  are  subjected  to 
snubs  or  other  rudeness ;  when  such  unpleasant 
nesses  occur  they  are  promptly  resented.  An 
American  woman  who  had  "  married  into  the 
nobility"  invited  me  to  come  to  her  house  at 
half  past  nine  in  the  evening.  I  naturally  as 
sumed  that  this  meant  dinner.  "When  I  arrived, 
the  flunkey  took  me  into  the  parlor  and  left  me 
there,  saying  Lady  So-and-so  and  her  guests  were 
at  dinner.  I  waited  some  moments,  but  as  no 
one  came  to  relieve  me  of  my  embarrassment,  I 
rang  the  bell,  requested  the  flunkey  to  take  my 
card  to  his  mistress  and  say  I  had  been  invited 
at  that  hour  and  had  arrived.  Word  came  back 
that  "  my  lady  "  would  be  up  in  a  few  minutes. 
Then  the  ladies  came  into  the  drawing-room, 
193 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

leaving  the  gentlemen  to  their  wine  and  cigars ; 
those  who  knew  me,  the  Princess  Mary  of  Teck 
was  one  of  them,  greeted  me  kindly,  but  my 
hostess  and  countrywoman  did  not  seem  to  think 
me  worthy  of  notice. 

Then  my  American  spirit  rose  to  boiling  point. 
I  called  my  cab  and  was  bowling  down  the  street 
when  a  panting  servant  overtook  me  and  gasped : 


"  My  cab  was  bowling  down  the  Street." 

"  Lady  Blank  would  like  to  see  you  a  moment, 
sir." 

"Oh,  would  she?"  I  replied.  When  I  re 
turned  I  found  the  fair  American  in  great  dis 
tress.  She  wanted  to  know  why  I  had  deserted 
194 


THE  AET  OF  ENTEKTAINTNG 

her  at  the  critical  moment,  and  when  I  told  her 
bluntly  that  I  was  not  in  the  habit  of  going  to 
houses  where  I  was  not  welcomed  as  a  guest,  she 
assured  me  her  rudeness  was  unintentional,  it 
was  due  to  her  ignorance  of  the  custom,  etc.,  etc., 
and  she  begged  me  not  to  leave  her  in  the  lurch. 
Of  course,  I  pretended  to  be  pacified,  but  the 
story  got  around  London  and  did  me  much  good, 
which  is  more  than  it  did  for  her  ladyship. 

A  peculiar  thing  about  the  English  sense  of 
humor  is  that  although  it  is  there  and  of  full  size, 
one  must  sometimes  search  hard  to  find  it.  Some 
types  of  American  joking  are  utterly  wasted  on 
the  Englishman. 

The  English  greatly  prefer  burlesques  on 
American  characteristics  to  those  on  their  own 
ways.  I  can't  call  this  a  peculiarity,  although 
Americans  specially  like  to  see  themselves  and 
their  own  people  "  hit  off,"  even  if  some  one  is 
hit  hard.  I  am  glad  to  say  that  although  I  am 
given  to  personalities,  and  exaggeration,  I  try 
never  to  cast  ridicule  on  the  people  of  whom  I 
talk  and  I  have  never  knowingly  hurt  any  one's 
feelings  by  my  character  sketches. 

In  London  the  theatres  are  almost  countless 
and  are  steadily  increasing  in  number,  and 
comedy,  burlesque  and  farce  are  the  rule — all  be 
cause  of  the  demand  for  fun.  The  English  enjoy 
eating  and  sleeping  more  than  any  other  people 
195 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

on  earth,  but  English  chops  and  sleep  with 
out  some  fun  between,  are  as  sounding  brass  and 
a  tinkling  cymbal,  for  dyspepsia  will  knock  out 
the  chops  and  insomnia  will  knock  out  sleep. 
But  fun  takes  dyspepsia  on  one  knee  and  insom 
nia  on  the  other  and  bounces  both  into  forgetful- 
ness. 

Since  the  days  when  Ward  McAllister  came 
into  style,  there  has  been  a  marked  change  in  the 
work  of  the  American  jester.  Time  was,  when 
here,  as  in  England,  any  old  thing  would  do  for 
parlor  entertainments,  no  matter  how  often  it 
had  been  heard  before.  It  did  not  even  have  to 
be  funny,  either ;  who  can  exaggerate  the  num 
ber  of  times  he  heard  "  Curfew  Shall  Not  Ring 
To-night,"  in  those  good  old  times?  Now, 
however,  the  entertainer  must  continually  supply 
something  new,  or  he  will  fall  by  the  wayside. 
It  must  be  something  funny  too ;  people  used  to 
crowd  lecture  rooms,  and  enjoy  serious  talks  by 
great  men — the  greatest  in  the  land,  but  whoever 
hears  a  lecture-course  now  ?  Fun — fun — fun,  is 
the  demand  everywhere,  so  every  entertainer  is  a 
joker. 

In  fact,  to  speak  with  my  customary  modesty, 
this  demand  for  amusement  places  Mr.  Depew 
and  me  on  the  same  footing.  Often  I  get  letters 
from  people  who  say  they  expect  my  friend  the 
Senator,  but,  if  he  cannot  come,  will  want  me  to 
196 


THE  AET  OF  ENTERTAINING 

fill  the  gap.  Not  long  ago  Mr.  Depew  cheated 
me  out  of  a  famous  dinner  at  Delmonico's,  so  I 
grumbled  a  bit  when  I  met  him.  He  got  off  the 
big,  hearty  laugh,  on  which  he  has  a  life  patent, 
with  no  possible  infringement  in  sight,  and  re 
plied, 

"Why,  Marsh,  why  didn't  you  tell  me?     If 
I'd  known  it,  I  wouldn't  have  gone." 


,^-v  (uprM*o*w 

^9  *';jH 


"  Enjoying  serious  talks  by  great  men." 

Ha,  ha,  pretty  good,  wasn't  it  ? 

Where  do  I  get  the  material  for  my  own 
sketches?  From  the  originals  every  time.  I 
pick  it  up  in  the  streets,  in  the  cars  and  restau 
rants,  get  it  from  the  newsboys,  from  men  of  all 
sorts  on  the  curb-stone,  from  almost  everywhere, 
but  never  from  books  or  newspapers,  for  the  world 
is  full  of  fun  if  one  only  has  the  ear  to  hear  it. 
197 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STREET 

When  I  get  hold  of  a  new  thing  that  seems  to 
be  good,  I  always  "try  it  on  the  dog" — that  is 
on  my  friends.  I  take  it  down  to  the  Lambs' 
Club  and  work  it  off  on  some  of  the  good  fellows 
there.  If  I  escape  alive  with  it,  I  inveigle  a 
couple  of  newsboys  into  a  dark  corner  and  have 
them  sample  it.  If  it  "  goes  "  with  them,  I  am 
pretty  sure  it  is  good,  so  I  add  it  to  my  reper 
toire  ;  but  if  it  fails  there,  I  never  disagree  with 
my  critics  ;  it  is  damned — absolutely,  no  matter 
who  may  think  it  might  be  made  to  work. 

Few  Americans  are  busier  than  the  successful 
entertainer.  His  hands  are  full  of  the  work  of 
brightening  up  the  heavy  parts  of  the  social 
affairs  that  crowd  the  long  winter  afternoon  and 
evenings,  so  with  hurrying  between  New  York, 
Boston  and  Chicago,  with  occasional  moves  to 
Philadelphia  and  Baltimore,  he  is  kept  "  on  the 
jump."  Yet  the  public  hears  little  of  his  work, 
for  it  is  not  advertised.  Why,  not  long  ago  I 
went  to  a  large  party  at  a  house  only  three 
blocks  from  my  apartments,  and  I  am  sure  thirty 
or  forty  of  the  guests  had  never  heard  my  name 
before. 

Such  is  fame. 


198 


XV 

IN  THE  SUNSHINE  WITH  GREAT  PREACHERS 

I  am  Nicknamed  "The  Theological  Comedian." — My  Friend, 
Henry  Ward  Beecher. — Our  Trip  Through  Scotland  and 
Ireland. — His  Quickness  of  Repartee. — He  and  Ingersoll 
Exchange  Words. — Ingersoll's  Own  Sunshine. — De  Witt 
Talmage  on  the  Point  of  View. — He  Could  Even  Laugh  at 
Caricatures  of  His  Own  Face. — Dr.  Parkhurst  on  Strict 
Deuominationalism. 

NAT   GOODWIN   once  nicknamed  me 
"  The  Theological  Comedian,"  because 
many  of  my  entertainments  were  given 
in  churches.     On  such  occasions  a  minister  would 
generally  preface  the  proceedings  with  prayer — 
whether  that  I,  or  the  people,  might  be  strength 
ened  for  the  ordeal  I  never  was  able  to  discover. 
But  the  ministers  always  laughed  at  every  joke  I 
cracked,  so  there  is  a  very  warm  spot  in  my  heart 
for  them. 

One  of  the  first  of  the  profession  I  ever  met 
was  Henry  Ward  Beecher.  I  became  well  ac 
quainted  with  him  and — of  far  more  consequence, 
he  was  always  friendly,  fatherly  and  merry  when 
I  met  him.  I  had  the  pleasure  of  traveling 
through  Scotland  and  Ireland  with  him,  and  no 
man  could  have  been  better  company.  Yet  he 
199 


THE  SUNOT  SIDE  OF  THE  STREET 

was  not  traveling  merely  for  pleasure.  Wher 
ever  he  went  and  was  known  the  people  wel 
comed  him  effusively,  insisted  on  hearing  from, 
him,  so  whenever  he  spoke  in  a  church  or  Sun 
day-school  he  had  a  crowded  house. 

We  spent  one  Sunday  together  in  Glasgow, 
and  the  depression  of  that  city  on  the  holy  day 
cannot  be  imagined.  I  have  heard  that  some 


e 


"  Getting  Properly  Dismal  for  Sunday." 

Scotchmen  get  full  of  bad  whiskey  on  Saturday 
night  for  the  sole  purpose  of  being  properly  dis 
mal  on  Sunday,  but  perhaps  that  is  not  true. 
But  the  street  cars  do  not  run ;  there  is  no  sign 
of  animation  ;  the  very  houses  look  as  dull  as  if 
they  were  untenanted;  to  a  person  accustomed  to 
the  cheer  and  bright  faces  of  Americans  on  Sun- 
200 


IK  SUNSHINE  WITH  GEEAT  PREACHERS 

day  the  town  seemed  enveloped  in  the  gloom  of 
death. 

In  the  morning  I  awoke  very  early ;  I  veri 
tably  believe  that  the  appalling  silence  disturbed 
my  slumbers.  I  felt  so  lonely  and  dismal  that  I 
instinctively  went  over  to  Mr.  Beecher's  room ; 
better  a  drowsy  American  than  a  whole  city  full 
of  wide-awake  Scotchmen — on  a  Scotch  Sunday. 
Mr.  Beecher  was  also  awake,  though  in  bed,  and 
in  spite  of  the  morning  being  quite  chilly  he  lay 
with  one  toe  uncovered.  I  said : 

"Mr.  Beecher,  aren't  you  afraid  of  catching 
cold?" 

"  Oh,  no,"  he  replied,  "  I  always  sleep  that 
way."  I  was  greatly  mystified  at  this,  and  asked 
him  the  reason.  He  laughed — and  what  a  laugh 
he  had !  It  was  as  big  and  solid  and  enduring  as 
the  Berkshire  hills  amid  which  he  was  born. 
Then  he  replied : 

"Marshall,  that  toe  is  the  key  to  the  situa 
tion." 

In  Ireland  we  went  about  a  good  deal  together 
in  jaunting  cars  and  extracted  a  lot  of  high-grade 
Hibernian  wit  from  the  drivers.  Although  Mr. 
Beecher  was  one  of  the  sensible  souls  who  could 
discern  the  difference  between  poverty  and  mis 
ery,  he  had  an  American's  innate  soft  spot  in  his 
heart  for  a  man  in  rags,  so  he  overpaid  our  driv 
ers  so  enormously  that  Mrs!  Beecher,  who  was 
201 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STREET 

with  us,  begged  that  she  might  be  allowed  to  do 
the  disbursing. 

One  day  we  were  driven  to  our  hotel  in  Belfast 
through  a  drizzling  rain.  When  I  paid  the  driver 
I  said  : 

"Are  you  wet,  Pat?"  With  a  merry  twinkle 
of  his  eye  he  replied  : 

"  Sure,  your  honor,  if  I  was  as  wet  outside  as 
I  am  inside,  I'd  be  as  dry  as  a  bone." 

Mr.  Beecher's  quickness  at  repartee,  of  which 
Americans  knew  well,  was  entirely  equal  to  Irish 
demands  upon  it.  One  day  in  Ireland,  after  he 
had  made  an  address  to  a  Sunday-school,  a  be 
witching  young  colleen  came  up  to  where  we 
stood  chatting  and  said  : 

"  Mr.  Beecher,  you  have  won  my  heart." 

"Well,"  replied  the  great  man  quickly,  with  a 
sunburst  of  a  smile,  "you  can't  get  along  with 
out  a  heart,  so  suppose  you  take  mine?" 

Which  reminds  me  of  the  day  when  he  and 
Col.  "  Bob  "  Ingersoll  were  on  the  platform  to 
gether  at  a  public  meeting  and  Beecher  went 
over  and  shook  hands  heartily  with  the  great 
agnostic,  though  he  knew  that  the  act  would 
bring  a  storm  of  criticism  from  people  with  nar- 
row-guage  souls.  Then  Ingersoll  brought  up  one 
of  his  daughters  and  introduced  her,  saying : 

"  Mr.  Beecher,  here  is  a  girl  who  never  read 
the  Bible."  Bob  delighted  in  shocking  ministers, 
202 


IN  SUNSHINE  WITH  GREAT  PREACHERS 


but  he  missed  his  fun  that  time,  for  Beecher 
quickly  replied : 

"If  all  heathen  were  so  charming  I  am  sure 
we  should  all  become  missionaries." 

Ingersoll  himself  was  as  quick  as  the  quickest 
at  repartee.  One  day  a  malignant  believer  in  an 
awful  time  for  the  wicked  after  death  asked  him : 

"  Are  you  trying  to  abolish  hell  ?  " 


"  If  all  Heathen  were  as  Charming." 

"  Yes,"  said  Ingersoll. 

"  Well,  you  can't  do  it." 

"You'll  be  sorry  if  I  don't,"  the  Colonel  re 
plied. 

Agnostic  though  he  was,  Ingersoll  is  fre 
quently  quoted  by  preachers,  for  in  one  respect 
he  was  very  like  the  best  of  them ;  he  never 
203 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

wearied  of  urging  men  to  right  living,  not 
through  fear  of  eternal  punishment,  but  because 
goodness  is  its  own  excuse  for  being.  No  pastor 
was  ever  more  severe  than  he  in  condemnation 
of  everything  mean  and  wicked  in  human  life,  so 
he  was  worthy  of  place  among  the  great  teachers 
of  ethics.  Personally  he  was  as  kind,  sympathetic 
and  helpful  as  some  ministers  are  not ;  whatever 
he  thought  of  systematic  theology,  he  was  prac 
tically  a  teacher  of  the  brotherhood  of  man  as 
defined  by  the  founder  of  Christianity.  In  his 
lighter  moments  he  was  one  of  the  merriest  com 
panions  that  any  one  could  meet ;  no  matter  what 
he  had  to  say,  he  would  always  illustrate  it  with 
a  story.  One  day  he  was  talking  of  people  who 
have  a  knack  of  saying  the  right  thing  at  the 
wrong  time,  and  told  the  following,  as  a  sam 
ple: 

A  well-to-do  merchant  out  west  lived  in  a  town 
not  remarkable  for  much  but  malaria  and  funerals. 
His  wives  had  a  way  of  dying,  and  whenever  he 
lost  one  he  went  into  another  county  and  married 
again.  A  loquacious  lady  in  the  healthy  county 
kindly  assisted  him  in  finding  young  women  who 
were  willing  to  marry  him  and  take  the  chances. 
About  six  months  after  burying  his  fourth  wife 
he  appeared  again  in  the  healthy  county,  called 
on  his  friend  and  was  greeted  with  : 

"  How's  your  wife,  Mr.  Thompson  ?  " 
204 


IN  SUNSHINE  WITH  GREAT  PREACHERS 

"  She's  dead,"  he  replied  sadly. 

"What  ?    Dead  again  ?  "  the  woman  cried. 

Ingersoll  was  full  of  stories  hinging  on  the 
place  he  believed  did  not  exist.  Here  is  one  of 
them: 

A  man  who  wanted  to  visit  hell  was  advised  to 
buy  an  excursion  ticket.  He  did  so,  and  when 
the  train  stopped  at  a  place  full  of  beautiful  trees, 


"  His  Wives  had  a  Way  of  Dying." 

warbling  birds  and  bright  sunshine  he  did  not  get 
off.  The  conductor  said : 

"  I  thought  you  wanted  hell  ?  " 

"  Is  this  hell  ?  "  the  passenger  asked  ;  "  I  didn't 
think  it  looked  like  this."  Then  he  walked  about 
and  met  a  man  to  whom  he  said  : 

"  I  am  surprised  to  find  hell  such  a  beautiful 
place." 

"  Well,"  the  man  replied,  "you  must  remember 
205 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

that  there  have  been  a  great  many  clever  people 
here  for  many  years,  so  the  place  has  greatly 
improved.  You  ought  to  have  seen  it  when  I 
came  here." 

"  Indeed  ?    And  who  are  you  ?  " 

"  I  am  Voltaire." 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  meet  you,  Voltaire,  and  I 
wish  you  would  do  me  a  favor." 

"  With  pleasure.     What  is  it  ?  " 

"  Get  some  one  to  buy  my  return  ticket, 
please." 

Colonel  Ingersoll  arrived  late  one  evening  at  a 
Clover  Club  dinner  in  Philadelphia,  to  which  he 
had  been  invited,  and  while  looking  for  his  seat 
he  regarded  the  decorations  so  admiringly  that 
Governor  Bunn  exclaimed : 

"  You've  found  heaven  at  last,  Colonel,  and  a 
place  waiting  for  you." 

At  a  Lambs'  Club  dinner  in  New  York,  of 
which  the  late  Steele  MacKaye  was  chairman, 
Ingersoll  was  formally  introduced  and  made  a 
speech,  in  the  course  of  which  he  made  so  un 
fortunate  a  remark  about  Deity  that  he  sat 
down  amid  silence  so  profound  as  to  be  painful 
MacKaye  arose  and  with  admirable  tact  brought 
the  Club  and  the  speaker  en  rapport  by  say 
ing: 

"  Gentlemen,  we  all  know  that  Colonel  Inger 
soll  dare  not  believe  in  God,  but  those  of  us  who 
206 


IN  SUNSHINE  WITH  GEEAT  PEEACHEES 

know  Colonel  Ingersoll  and  do  believe  in  God 
know  that  God  believes  in  Mm." 

The  late  T.  DeWitt  Talmage  never  lost  a 
chance  to  emphasize  a  point  with  a  good  story. 
As  I  knew  him  to  be  a  good  man  and  a  first-rate 
fellow,  I  used  to  be  indignant  at  newspaper  abuse 
of  him,  and  particularly  with  some  caricatures 
that  were  made  of  his  expressive  features.  I 
took  occasion  to  tell  him  of  this,  but  he  re 
plied  : 

"  Marshall,  I'm  as  thick-skinned  as  a  rhinoceros, 
and  I  never  mind  what  is  said  about  me.  Some 
of  the  caricatures  annoy  me,  but  only  because 
they  pain  people  I  love — my  wife  and  family. 
You  see,  my  boy,  it  doesn't  pay  to  be  too  sen 
sitive,  for  it  breaks  a  man  up,  and  that's  the  worst 
thing  that  can  happen  to  him  if  he  has  any  duties 
in  the  world.  Besides,  everything  depends  on 
the  point  of  view.  Once  a  German  family  emi 
grated  to  America  and  settled  in  Milwaukee. 
The  oldest  son,  in  his  teens,  concluded  he  would 
start  out  for  himself.  He  '  fetched  up  '  in  New 
York,  and  without  any  money,  so  he  wrote  home, 
1  Dear  father,  I  am  sick  and  lonely  and  without 
a  single  cent.  Send  me  some  money  quick. 
Your  son  John.'  The  old  man  couldn't  read,  so 
he  took  the  letter  to  a  friend — a  great  strapping 
butcher  with  a  loud  gruff  voice  and  an  arrogant 
manner  of  reading.  When  the  letter  was  read  to 
207 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

him  the  father  was  furious  and  declared  he  would 
not  send  his  son  a  cent — not  even  to  keep  him 
from  starving.  But  on  his  way  home  he  kept 
thinking  about  the  letter  and  wanting  to  hear  it 
again,  so  he  took  it  to  another  friend— a  con 
sumptive  undertaker  who  had  a  gentle  voice  with 
an  appealing  inflection  in  it.  When  this  man 
read  the  letter  the  father  burst  into  tears  and 
exclaimed,  '  My  poor  boy !  I  shall  send  him  all 
the  money  he  wants.'  You  see,  the  same  thing 
viewed  from  a  different  point  takes  on  a  different 
color." 

After  the  Kev.  Dr.  Parkhurst  visited  some 
notorious  New  York  "  dives  "  and  preached  his 
famous  sermon  on  New  York  politics  he  was  the 
sensation  of  the  day  and  also  one  of  the  best 
abused  men  in  the  land.  He  was  besieged  by 
reporters  until  he  had  scarcely  time  to  say  his 
prayers  and  came  to  hate  the  sight  of  a  newspaper 
man.  About  that  time  I  was  making  a  trip  to 
Kochester  and  saw  Dr.  Parkhurst  enter  the  car  I 
was  in.  I  said  to  some  friends : 

"  That  is  Dr.  Parkhurst.  Now  watch  me ;  I'm 
going  to  have  some  fun  with  him." 

His  chair  was  at  the  other  end  of  the  car  and 
he  was  having  a  good  time  with  newspapers  and 
magazines  and  far  away,  as  he  supposed,  from 
reporters.  I  passed  and  repassed  him  two  or 
three  times;  then,  assuming  as  well  as  I  could 
208 


IN  SUNSHINE  WITH  GEEAT  PEEACHEES 

the  manner  of  a  newspaper  man  I  stopped  and 
said : 

"  Dr.  Parkhurst,  I  believe  ?  " 

He  looked  up  with  a  savage  frown,  and  I  saw 
that  he  took  me  for  one  of  the  tormenting  frater 
nity.  I  continued  in  an  insinuating,  tooth-draw 
ing  manner  until  he  became  so  chilling  that  I 
could  hear  the  thermometer  falling  with  heavy 
thuds.  When  I  felt  that  I  had  made  him  as  un 
comfortable  as  I  could  I  said, 

"  Pardon  me,  Doctor,  but  evidently  you  don't 
remember  me."  Then  I  handed  him  my  card. 
His  manner  changed  like  a  cloudy  day  when  the 
sun  breaks  through,  and  he  said  cordially : 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you,  Mr.  Wilder.  I  mistook 
you  for  a  reporter." 

"  I  thought,  you  would,"  I  replied,  "  for  that's 
what  I  was  trying  to  make  you  believe." 

We  laughed  together  and  for  the  remainder  of 
the  trip  we  were  close  companions.  He  is  a  de 
lightful  talker,  full  of  anecdotes  and  reminis 
cences.  I  never  met  a  keener  lover  of  good 
stories  than  he,  and,  beside  being  an  appreciative 
listener,  he  is  so  good  a  reconteur  himself  that  a 
listener  is  willing  that  he  should  do  all  the  story 
telling.  He  has  no  patience  with  narrow,  hide 
bound  denominationalists ;  he  defined  them  by 
telling  me  a  story  of  a  minister  who  preached  a 
sermon  so  touching  that  all  his  hearers  were 
209 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

melted  to  tears — all  but  one  man.     When  asked 
how  he  had  succeeded  in  keeping  his  eyes  dry 
the  man  replied : 
"  Well,  you  see,  this  isn't  my  church." 


210 


XVI 

THE  PRINCE  OF  WALES 
(AW  King  Edward 


The  Most  Popular  Sovereign  in  Europe.  —  How  He  Saved  Me 
From  a  Master  of  Ceremonies.  —  Promotion  by  Name.  —  He 
and  His  Friends  Delight  two  American  Girls.  —  His  Sons 
and  Daughters.  —  An  Attentive  and  Loving  Father.  —  Un 
tiring  at  His  Many  Duties  Before  He  Ascended  the  Throne. 
—  Unobtrusive  Politically,  yet  Influential. 

IF  all  kings  were  as  competent  as  the  genial 
and  tactful  gentleman  who  recently  ascended 
the  British  throne,  it  would  be  a  thankless 
job  to  start  a  new  republic  anywhere.     Person 
ally,  I  have  strong  grounds  for  this  opinion,  for 
I  had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  His  Majesty  many 
times  while  he  was  Prince  of  Wales,  and  these 
meetings  were  due  entirely  to  his  kindness  of 
nature  and  generally  were  of  his  own  initiative. 

I  don't  imagine  he  knew  it,  but  the  Prince  of 
Wales  once  lifted  me  out  of  as  uncomfortable  a 
fix  as  I  ever  got  into  in  London.  The  Ancient 
and  Honorable  Artillery,  Boston's  swell  military 
organization,  visited  England  in  1896,  as  guests 
of  the  Ancients  and  Honorables  of  London,  who 
entertained  them  handsomely  and  had  them  pre- 
211 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

sented  to  Her  Majesty  the  queen.  The  Boston 
company  in  turn,  gave  a  great  dinner  to  their 
hosts.  Some  Americans  then  in  the  city  were 
invited,  and  I  had  the  good  fortune  to  be  of  the 
number,  through  the  kindness  of  Mr.  B.  F. 
Keith,  who  was  one  of  the  Boston  Ancient  and 
Honorables. 

The  spectacle  was  brilliant  in  the  extreme, 
nine  out  of  every  ten  men  present  being  in  full 
dress  uniform.  The  entire  assemblage  was  gath 
ered  informally  in  two  long,  glittering  rows, 
awaiting  the  Prince  of  "Wales,  who  was  always 
the  soul  of  punctuality.  I  had  many  acquaint 
ances  in  the  two  uniformed  bodies,  as  well  as 
among  the  non-military  guests,  and  was  moving 
about  from  one  to  another.  I  was  in  conven 
tional  evening  dress,  and  had  a  tiny  American 
flag  pinned  to  the  lapel  of  my  coat. 

The  Master  of  Ceremonies,  whose  manner  was 
more  consequential  than  that  of  any  distinguished 
person  in  the  room,  seemed  annoyed  that  any 
civilian  were  present,  and  he  did  his  utmost  to 
separate  them  from  the  soldiers.  I  had  the  mis 
fortune  to  become  his  bete  noire ;  whenever  he 
found  me  among  the  military  men  he  gently  but 
persistently  pressed  me  away,  but  no  sooner  did 
he  eject  me  in  one  direction  than  I  reappeared 
from  another  and  between  two  pairs  of  gaily- 
appareled  soldiers'  legs,  so  I  made  the  poor 
212 


KING  EDWAED  VII 

fellow  nervous  and  fussy  to  the  verge  of  distrac 
tion. 

Exactly  at  eight  o'clock  the  Prince  of  "Wales 
was  announced  and  every  one  came  to  attention, 
lie  entered  with  the  genial  smile  which  was  an 
inseparable  part  of  him  and  shook  hands  with  the 


"  I  had  the  misfortune  to  become  hia  Mte  noire." 

American  minister  and  other  dignitaries.     Soon 
he  spied  me,  came  across  the  room,  greeted  me 
very  kindly,  and  said : 
"  How  are  you,  little  chap  ?  " 
"  Very  well,  thank  you,  sir,"  I  replied. 
"I  am  to  hear  you  to-morrow  night  at  the 
213 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

Duke  of  Devonshire's,  I  understand,"  he  con 
tinued.  "  Won't  you  give  us  that  mother-in-law 
pantomime  of  yours  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  sir,"  I  answered  ;  as  the  Prince  left 
me  and  ascended  the  stairs  I  saw  that  the  Master 
of  Ceremonies,  who  had  witnessed  the  meeting, 
was  visibly  disturbed.  Soon  he  literally  hovered 
about  me  and  displayed  a  fixed  and  conciliatory 
smile.  The  guests  began  to  follow  the  Prince, 
and  as  they  passed  up  the  stairs  many  of  them 
greeted  me.  Senator  Depew  remarked  : 

"  Hello,  Marshall,  how  are  you  ?" 

That  dear  old  gentleman  and  English  idol, 
John  L.  Toole,  passed,  blinked  merrily  at  me 
and  said : 

"  Glad  to  see  you  again,  Marshall.  How  are 
you?" 

Presently  the  Master  of  Ceremonies  turned 
nervously  to  an  English  officer  and  asked,  with 
an  aggrieved  tone  in  his  voice : 

"  Who  is  this  little  chap,  anyway  ?  Every 
body  seems  to  know  him." 

The  officer  did  not  chance  to  know  me,  but 
an  English  Sergeant  who  was  of  the  attendant 
guard  and  was  willing  to  impart  information 
said : 

"  He  belongs  to  the  American  Army.  He's  a 
marshal."  The  great  functionary  immediately 
regarded  me  with  profound  respect,  not  unmixed 
214 


KING  EDWAKD  VII 

with  wonder  at  the  modesty  of  great  American 
soldiers,  for  an  officer  of  my  supposedly  exalted 
rank  was  entitled  to  follow  close  behind  His 
Koyal  Highness. 

At  the  Duke  of  Devonshire's  on  the  following 
evening  I  was  assisted  by  two  young  Americans 
— twin  sisters,  the  Misses  Jessie  and  Bessie  Ab 
bot.  Miss  Bessie  had  a  wonderful  voice,  and  has 
since  achieved  a  great  success  in  Paris  in  the 


"  They  regarded  me  with  profound  respect." 

title  part  of  the  opera  "  Juliet."  Both  girls  were 
clever  and  charming  and  we  three  maintained  a 
friendship  which  was  delightful  to  me  and  which 
they,  too,  seemed  to  enjoy.  At  that  time  they 
were  living  in  London  with  their  mother,  and 
taking  part  in  private  entertainments,  but  the 
evening  at  the  Duke  of  Devonshire's  was  their 
215 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

first  appearance  before  the  Prince  of  Wales  or 
any  of  the  Koyal  family.  They  charmed  the 
audience  and  were  loaded  with  compliments, 
some  of  which  were  expressed  by  the  Princess 
of  Wales  in  person. 

While  the  Princess  was  conversing  with  the 
sisters  she  mentioned  the  Prince,  upon  which 
Miss  Jessie  said : 

"  I  have  not  yet  met  the  Prince,  but  I  wish  to 
very  much." 

"  Oh,  have  you  not  ?  "  the  Princess  exclaimed, 
as  she  smilingly  regarded  the  pretty  girl  who  was 
unconscious  that  she  had  committed  a  breach  of 
etiquette.  "  Then  I  shall  arrange  it."  Immedi 
ately  she  walked  the  entire  length  of  the  long 
picture  gallery  in  which  the  entertainment  had 
been  given,  found  the  Prince,  came  back  on  his 
arm,  and  Miss  Jessie's  request  was  granted.  The 
Prince,  noting  the  resemblance  of  the  sisters  to 
each  other,  asked  if  they  were  really  twins. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  Miss  Jessie  replied,  and  then  turn 
ing  to  me  she  continued,  "  Aren't  we,  Marshall  ? 
Her  ingenuous  manner  compelled  the  Prince  to 
laugh,  after  which  he  said  to  me : 

"  You  seemed  to  be  posted,  little  chap." 

Among  royal  children  whom  I  have  had  the 
honor  to  entertain,  none  are  more  widely  known, 
through  their  portraits  and  also  by  common  re 
port,  than  the  sons  and  daughters  of  the  present 
216 


KING  EDWARD  VII 

King  and  Queen  of  England.  The  first  time  I 
ever  appeared  before  them  was  at  an  exhibition 
given  for  the  benefit  of  the  Gordon  home  for 
boys.  It  was  a  social  affair  of  great  prominence, 
the  audience  being  composed  principally  of  the 
royal  family  and  the  nobility.  The  Prince  and 
Princess  of  Wales  were  accompanied  by  their 
children — Prince  Albert  Victor,  who  has  since 
died  but  was  then  heir-apparent,  Prince  George, 
who  is  now  Prince  of  Wales,  and  the  Princesses 
Louise,  Victoria  and  Maude.  Other  members  of 
the  royal  family  in  the  audience  were  the  Duke 
of  Connaught  (brother  to  the  Prince),  the  Duke 
and  Duchess  of  Teck  and  the  Princess  Louise  of 
Teck. 

I  suppose  I  ought  to  do  the  conventional  thing 
by  likening  King  Edward's  daughters  to  Wash 
ington  Irving's  "  Three  Beautiful  Princesses,"  but 
my  first  impression  of  them  has  remained  clear 
that  I  frequently  revert  to  the  day  I  received  it — 
three  wholesome,  pretty,  dainty  English  little  girls 
of  demure  manner,  with  exquisite  complexions, 
and  whose  blonde  hair  was  very  long  and  their 
simple  white  frocks  rather  short.  They  had 
many  points  of  resemblance  to  one  another, 
but  their  brothers  were  quite  dissimilar  in  one 
respect,  Victor  being  slight  and  delicate  while 
George  was  sturdy  and  robust.  All  seemed  to 
enjoy  the  entertainment,  but  did  not  forget  and 
217 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

lose  control  of  themselves,  as  well-bred  American 
children  sometimes  do  in  public.  Princess  Louise 
of  Teck,  who  is  considered  the  handsomest  of  the 
princesses,  was  at  that  time  a  very  beautiful  and 
attractive  child. 

I  afterward  met  them  all  at  the  Duke  of 
Devonshire's  and  found  that  in  conversation 
with  their  elders  their  manner  was  marked  by 
the  simplicity,  thoughtfulness  and  kindness  in 
separable  from  good  breeding.  They  frequently 
rode  or  drove  in  the  park,  accompanied  by  a 
lady-in-waiting  or  a  gentleman  of  the  Queen's 
household.  The  universal  respect  manifested  for 
them  did  not  turn  their  heads  in  the  least ;  in 
acknowledgment  of  the  bared  heads  about  them 
they  did  not  bow  haughtily,  but  graciously  and 
kindly,  as  if  grateful  for  the  attention  bestowed 
upon  them.  It  seemed  impossible,  to  any  one 
who  had  observed  the  condescending  and  even 
arrogant  manner  in  public  of  so  many  English 
children  whose  dress  and  equipage  indicated 
parental  wealth  and  station,  that  the  Prince 
of  Wales's  children  could  be  what  they  really 
were — scions  of  the  most  firmly-rooted  royal 
stock  in  all  Europe  and  that  from  among  them 
would  in  time  come  an  occupant  of  the  only 
throne  whose  influence  is  felt  entirely  around 
the  world. 

But' the  key  to  the  mystery  was  not  far  to  find; 
218 


KING  EDWARD  VII 

one  had  but  to  go  back  to  the  parents  of  these 
model  children — to  the  Prince  of  Wales  and  his 
consort,  the  daughter  of  a  king  whose  tact  and 
sense  are  universally  recognized  and  admired  and 
who  to  this  day,  although  past  his  eighty-sixth 
birthday,  is  a  model  for  rulers  everywhere.  The 
Prince  of  Wales  was,  as  under  his  new  title  of  King 
Edward  he  still  is,  as  affectionate  and  attentive 
a  father  as  can  be  found  in  the  world.  Despite 
common  report,  founded  on  his  affable  and  lei 
surely  manner  in  public,  he  has  for  many  years 
been  a  close  student  of  affairs  and  a  very  busy 
man,  yet  there  never  was  a  time  when  his  chil 
dren  had  not  free  access  to  him,  nor  when  he  was 
not  his  children's  industrious  teacher  and  mentor. 
For  years  he  has  been  known  as  the  most  tactful 
man  in  England,  and  without  a  superior  in  this 
respect  in  the  world.  Speaking  literally,  royalty 
is  his  life  business ;  it  is  also  to  be  the  life-busi 
ness  of  his  children,  so  he  has  made  it  a  matter 
of  sense  as  well  as  of  duty  that  his  sons  and 
daughters  should  be  prepared  to  so  comport 
themselves  as  to  make  their  royalty  secure  and 
themselves  safe.  History  has  taught  him  that 
neither  great  armies  nor  well-filled  coffers  can 
maintain  a  family  on  the  throne,  and  that  the 
only  security  of  a  ruler  is  found  in  the  respect 
and  affection  of  the  people.  While  his  mother 
was  on  the  throne  he  probably  heard  thousands 
219 


THE  SUNN1  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

of  times — indirectly,  of  course,  the  common  pre 
diction  of  "  advanced  "  politicians  that  he  never 
would  succeed  her.  Probably  this  prediction 
never  caused  him  to  lose  a  single  hour  of  sleep, 
for  he  never  allowed  himself  to  neglect  one  of 
the  thousands  of  duties  that  devolved  upon  him 
as  his  mother's  personal  representative.  Never 
obtrusive  politically,  he  nevertheless  became  a 
positive  influence  in  national  politics ;  he  ap 
peared  at  all  public  functions  that  asked  royal 
sanction,  always  said  and  did  the  right  thing, 
made  himself  approachable,  always  was  affable 
though  never  lacking  in  dignity,  and  gave  to 
every  man,  great  or  simple,  the  full  measure  of 
attention  and  respect  that  was  due  him,  season 
ing  the  same  so  thoroughly  with  courtesy  as  to 
make  a  lifelong  admirer  of  the  receiver.  He  im 
parted  his  manner  to  his  sons  and  daughters  and 
his  consort  added  to  his  influence  by  motherly 
training  similar  to  his  own.  No  breath  of  scan 
dal  has  ever  touched  one  of  these  children ;  in  this 
respect  the  family  is  almost  unique,  for  black 
sheep  are  prominent  in  almost  all  royal  families 
of  Europe,  and  one  such  character  is  enough  to 
inflict  a  lasting  smirch  on  the  entire  house. 

The  Prince  of  Wales  whom  I  met  is  now  King 
of  England  and  his  children  are  men  and  women. 
His  official  presence  is  overshadowing  his  unoffi 
cial  past,  almost  to  the  extent  of  forgetf ulness. 
220 


KING  EDWAED  VII 


But  no  thoughtful  observer  will  forget  that  King 
Edward  and  his  children  as  they  now  appear  date 
back  to  many  years  of  His  Majesty's  life  when 
he  was  Prince  of  Wales  and  in  apparent  likeli 
hood  of  being  outlived  by  his  mother. 


221 


XYII 

SIR  HENRY  IRVING 

A  Model  of  Courtesy  and  Kindness. — An  Early  Friend  Sur 
prised  by  the  Nature  of  His  Recognition. — His  Tender  Re 
gard  for  Members  of  His  Company.— Hamlet's  Ghost 
Forgets  His  Cue. — Quick  to  Aid  the  Needy. — Two  Lucky 
Boys. — Irving  as  a  Joker. — The  Story  He  Never  Told  Me. — 
Generous  Offer  to  a  Brother  Actor-manager. — Why  He  is 
Not  Rich. 

THE  American    people    at   large    know 
Henry  Irving  as  a  great  actor,  scores  of 
Americans  and  hundreds  of  Englishmen 
of  his  own  and  related  professions  know  him  as 
one  of  the  most  friendly  and  great-hearted  men 
alive.     Many  volumes  could  be  written  about  his 
thoughtful  kindnesses,  and  at  least  one  of  them 
could  be  filled  with  mention  of  his  goodness  to 
me,  for,  in  my  many  visits  to  England,  he  never 
failed  to  "  look  me  up  "  and  show  me  every  kind 
ness  in  his  power — and  his  power  is  great.     If  I 
were  to  go  into  details  regarding  myself,  I  should 
offend  him,  for,  like  any  other  genuine  man,  he 
does  not  like  his  left  hand  know  what  his  right 
hand  does,  but  it  shouldn't  hurt  for  me  to  tell 
some  open  secrets  about  his  kindness  to  others. 
Lionel  Brough  often  talks  of  the  time  when  he 
222 


and  Irving,  both  of  them  young  men,  were  mem. 
bers  of  a  company  in  Manchester.  In  those  days 
Irving  was  a  dreamer  of  dreams  and  had  a  fond 
ness  for  being  his  own  only  company,  so  his  asso 
ciates  made  him  the  butt  of  many  jokes  that  did 
not  seem  to  disturb  his  self-absorption.  He  had 
no  intimates  in  the  company,  although  he  was  of 
lovable  nature.  Near  the  theatre  was  an  uphol 
stery  shop,  the  owner  of  which  became  acquainted 
with  Irving,  understood  him  and  loved  him,  as 
did  the  family  ;  they  called  the  young  actor  "  Our 
Henry,"  always  had  room  and  a  hearty  welcome 
for  him,  and  in  many  ways  served  as  balm  to  his 
sensitive  nature. 

When  Irving  went  to  London  he  did  not  for 
get  his  Manchester  friends — not  even  after  he 
became  a  successful  and  very  busy  manager.  He 
sent  them  frequent  evidences  of  his  regard, 
though  he  had  no  time  to  make  visits.  On  com 
ing  into  possession  of  the  Lyceum  Theatre  he  de 
termined  to  reupholster  every  part  of  it.  A 
large  London  firm  desired  the  contract  and  made 
estimates  but  Mr.  Irving  sent  to  Manchester  for 
his  old  friend,  and,  as  the  Irving  company  was 
leaving  England  for  a  long  American  tour,  gave 
the  upholsterer  carte  blanche. 

On  Irving's  return  from  America  he  inspected 
his  theatre,  was  delighted  with  the  renovation, 
and  asked  the  upholsterer  for  the  bill.  After 
223 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

looking  it  over  he  sent  for  the  London  firm  that 
had  offered  plans  and  estimates,  and  asked  them 
what  they  would  have  charged  to  do  what  had 
been  done.  They  named  a  sum  five  times  as 
large  as  the  Manchester  man  had  charged ; 
Irving  discovered  later  that  his  old  friend  had 
charged  only  for  materials,  the  work  being 
"  thrown  in  "  for  old  affection's  sake.  But  Irving 
disregarded  the  bill  entirely  and  drew  a  check 
for  twice  the  amount  of  the  London  firm's  es 
timate. 

But  it  does  not  require  memories  of  past  kind 
nesses  to  open  Mr.  Irving's  purse,  for  he  is  almost 
as  susceptible  to  the  influence  of  old  association. 
He  has  always  maintained  a  far  larger  company 
than  his  productions  demanded,  and  retained  old 
members  long  after  their  services  would  have 
been  dispensed  with  by  a  manager  at  all  careful 
of  his  pennies.  Many  Americans  have  pleasant 
remembrances  of  old  "  Daddy  "  Howe,  who  died 
in  Cincinnati  some  years  ago  while  a  member  of 
the  Irving  company  on  tour.  At  a  memorable 
dinner  given  Mr.  Irving  by  his  professional  ad 
mirers  in  America,  Mr.  Howe  arose  and  told  of 
his  offering  to  retire  when  the  company  was  pre 
paring  to  come  to  this  country,  and  how  his  sug 
gestion  was  received.  Although  he  was  eighty 
years  old  at  the  time,  he  had  been  a  member  of 
but  three  companies,  one  of  which  was  Mr. 
224 


SIR  HEKRY  IRVING 

Irving's.  He  knew  that  the  expenses  of  the 
American  tour  would  be  enormous,  and  that  the 
small  parts  for  which  he  was  usually  cast  would 
be  well  played  here  for  far  less  than  his  own  sal 
ary,  so  his  conscience  compelled  him  to  write  Mr. 
Irving  saying  that  he  comprehended  the  situation 
and  would  either  retire  or  accept  less  pay.  As 
he  received  no  reply,  he  repeated  his  suggestion 
in  person  to  Mr.  Irving. 

"  Dear  me ! — Ah  !  yes  ! — "Well,  I'll  let  you  know 
presently,"  was  the  evasive  answer  from  which 
Howe  assumed  that  he  would  be  retired,  so  it 
was  with  trembling  hands  that  he  opened  a  note 
from  the  manager  the  next  day.  He  read  : 

"  Of  course  I  expect  you  to  go  to  America,  and 
I  hope  the  increase  of  your  salary  will  indicate 
my  appreciation  and  good  wishes." 

As  Howe  told  this  story  his  eyes  filled  and 
overflowed,  but  Irving,  when  all  eyes  were  turned 
toward  him,  looked  as  if  he  did  not  see  that  there 
was  anything  in  the  incident  to  justify  the  old 
actor's  emotion  or  the  applause  of  every  one 
around  the  tables. 

I  am  indebted  to  my  friend,  Mr.  J.  E.  Dodson, 
who  came  over  with  Mrs.  Kendall's  company,  for 
these  stories  illustrating  Mr.  L  ving's  manner  on 
the  stage  in  circumstances  which  would  make 
almost  any  manager-star  drop  into  rage  and  pro 
fanity.  Here  is  one  of  them : 
225 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OP  THE  STEEET 

"  Old  Tom  Meade,  beloved  by  all  English  play 
ers,  and  the  best  stock  ghost  any  company  ever 
had,  was  much  given  to  reading  in  the  dressing- 
room  between  his  cues.  "  Hamlet "  was  on  one 
night,  and  after  his  first  appearance  as  the  mur 
dered  king,  Meade  went  to  his  room  for  the  long 
"  wait "  before  the  closet  scene.  With  his  heels 
on  the  table,  a  black  clay  pipe  in  his  mouth  and 
silver  spectacles  astride  his  nose  he  was  soon  in 
the  profoundest  depths  of  a  philosophical  work. 
The  call  boy  gave  him  notice  of  his  cue. 

"  Dh — yes,"  was  the  reply,  but  Meade  went  on 
reading.  Several  minutes  later  there  was  fever 
ish  excitement  in  the  wings  and  messengers  from 
the  stage  manager  poured  into  Meade's  room ; 
the  lights  had  been  lowered,  the  stage  was  envel 
oped  in  blue  haze,  but  there  was  no  ghost ! 
Dropping  his  book,  Meade  hurried  to  the  stage, 
but  in  his  excitement  he  entered  on  the  wrong 
side,  and  almost  behind  Hamlet.  It  was  too  late 
to  go  around  to  the  other  side,  so  Meade  whis 
pered  huskily  to  Mr.  Irving : 

"  Here,  sir,  here — just  behind  you ! " 

About  this  time  the  man  who  managed  the 
calcium  light  succeeded  in  locating  the  dilatory 
ghost  and  in  throwing  the  blue  haze  upon  him,  as 
Hamlet  exclaimed : 

"See  where  he  goes  e'en  now,  out  at  the 
portal!" 

226 


SIR  HENRY  IRVING 

Poor  Meade  was  in  agony  until  he  was  able  to 
speak  to  Mr.  Irving. 

"  Gov'n'r,"  he  faltered,  "  reading  in  my  dress 
ing-room — heard  call,  but  forgot.  Rushed  to 
wrong  side  of  stage,  sir.  Never  happened  before 
— never  will  again,  sir.  And  after  all,  it  didn't 
go  so  bad,  sir."  For  a  moment  Mr.  Irving  looked 
him  through  and  through,  after  which  he  said 
icily : 

"Yes,  Tom — but  I  like  it  better  the  other 
way." 

One  day  Mr.  Irving  chanced  to  meet  Mcln- 
tyre,  with  whom  he  had  played  in  the  provinces 
in  his  own  struggling  days.  The  two  men  had 
not  met  in  years,  and  Irving's  eyes — marvelous 
eyes  they  are,  beamed  with  delight,  as  they 
always  do  when  they  see  an  old  companion. 

"  Well,  well,  Mclntyre  1 "  he  exclaimed. 
""What  are  you  doing  here?" — and  he  led  the 
way  into  Haxell's,  where  they  might  have  a  quiet 
chat  over  cigars  and  brandy  and  soda. 

"  Nothing,"  was  the  comprehensive  reply. 

"  Have  you  settled  on  anything  ?  " 

Mclntyre  admitted  that  he  was  expecting  to 
play  in  something  at  the  Holborn.  Before  they 
parted  Irving  said  :  "  You  must  come  down  and 
have  seats  in  the  house,  so  you  can  tell  me  what 
you  think  of  us."  Next  day  he  sent  to  the  Hol 
born  a  most  cordial  letter  containing  tickets  for 
227 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

the  two  best  seats  in  the  Lyceum  and  an  urgent 
request  for  another  chat.  Merely  as  an  after 
thought  was  this  postscript : 

"  Forgive  me  for  handing  you  a  ten-pound  note 
as  a  loan  at  your  convenience.  You  may  need  to 
get  something  new  for  the  play."  Mclntyre's 
feelings  may  be  imagined  when  I  repeat  his  con 
fession  that  at  that  moment  he  did  not  know 
where  his  next  meal  was  coming  from. 

Mr.  Irving  is  very  fond  of  children  and — as 
does  not  always  follow  in  other  men's  fondness 
of  the  same  nature,  he  is  very  attentive  to  them. 
When  he  produced  "Olivia,"  the  juvenile  part 
was  played  by  a  nine-year-old  boy  who  kept  him 
self  very  clean  and  tidy,  but  his  street  clothes 
were  so  old  that  extreme  poverty  was  evident. 
One  night  Mr.  Irving  asked : 

"  Where  do  you  live,  my  lad  ?  " 

u  Beyond  Hammersmith,  sir  " — a  London  sec 
tion  some  miles  from  the  theatre. 

"  And  how  do  you  get  home  ?  " 

"  I  walk,  sir,"  the  boy  replied,  surprised  by  the 
inquiry. 

"  Yes,  yes.  But  after  this  you  must  ride  " — 
and  Mr.  Irving  ordered  that  the  boy  should  be 
supplied  with  'bus  fares  thereafter.  Later  Mr. 
Irving  noticed  that  the  boy  had  a  troubled  look 
on  his  face.  Asked  if  he  didn't  enjoy  riding,  he 
confessed  that  he  had  been  walking  to  save  his 
228 


SIR  HENRY  IRVING 

'bus  fares,  for  his  mother  was  ill  and  his  father 
out  of  work.  An  order  was  given  that  the  boy's 
salary  should  be  raised ;  throughout  the  summer, 
though  the  company  was  not  playing,  the  child 
continued  to  receive  his  salary,  at  Irving's  per 
sonal  order. 

Still  more  significant  of  his  cherishing  regard 
for  children  is  a  story  of  how  he  squandered 
time — more  carefully  guarded  on  the  stage  than 
anything  else, — to  make  a  boy  happy.  It  oc 
curred  in  a  one-act  piece — "  Cramond  Brig,"  in 
which  there  is  a  supper-scene  in  a  cottage,  a 
steaming  sheep's  head  and  an  oat-cake  are 
brought  in  and  the  cottar's  little  son  is  supposed 
to  do  boyish  justice  to  the  feast.  The  little  chap 
who  played  the  part  did  not  look  as  if  he  had 
eaten  more  than  his  allowance,  which  was  not  to 
be  wondered  at ;  stage  feasts  are  not  prepared  by 
chefs,  and  the  sheep's  head  was  indifferently 
cooked,  the  only  stage  demand  being  that  it 
should  send  up  a  cloud  of  steam  and  look  piping 
hot.  One  night,  when  the  meat  chanced  to  be 
well  cooked,  Mr.  Irving  noted  that  the  boy  en 
tered  into  the  spirit  of  the  scene  with  extreme 
realism,  so  with  a  smile  at  the  youngster's  energy 
he  asked  : 

"  Like  it,  me  boy  ?  Ah,  yes ;  I  thought  so. 
Boys  are  always  hungry." 

No  sooner  was  that  hungry  boy  out  of  hearing 
229 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

than  Mr.  Irving  ordered  that  the  sheep's  head 
and  oat- cake  should  in  future  be  properly  sea 
soned  and  carefully  cooked ;  still  more,  he  in 
formed  the  players  that  the  supper-scene  was  not 
to  be  hurried,  but  was  to  be  governed  by  the 
boy's  appetite.  And  how  that  boy  did  enjoy  the 
change ! — though  Mr.  Irving  seemed  to  get  as 
much  pleasure  out  of  the  feast  as  he. 

"Old  John,"  Irving's  personal  servant  and 
dressing-room  valet,  used  to  go  on  a  spree  about 
once  a  year.  With  the  fatality  peculiar  to  such 
men,  his  weakness  took  possession  of  him  on  a 
night  of  "  The  Lyon's  Mail " — a  play  in  which 
the  leading  character  must  make  so  rapid  a 
change  that  quick  and  sober  hands  must  assist 
him.  Just  as  the  change  was  impending  poor 
John  stole  into  the  theatre  and  stood  in  the 
wings  with  comb,  brush  and  other  necessary 
articles  hugged  to  his  breast,  though  he  was 
plainly  incompetent  to  use  them.  He  cut  a  lu 
dicrous  figure,  though  the  time  was  not  one  for 
fun — not  for  the  star.  Mr.  Irving  grasped  the 
situation ;  almost  any  other  actor  in  similar  cir 
cumstances  would  have  grasped  the  valet  also 
and  shaken  the  life  out  of  him.  Irving  merely 
said  mildly — very  mildly : 

"  John,  you're  tired.     Go  home." 

Almost  any  man  possessing  a  sense  of  humor 
has  one  and  only  one  way  of  manifesting  it,  but 
230 


SIR  HENEY  IRVING 

in  humor  as  on  the  stage  Mr.  Irving  is  protean. 
In  the  course  of  a  long  chat  which  he  and 
Richard  Mansfield  had  one  night  at  the  Garrick 
Club,  Mansfield  spoke  of  his  noted  Jekyll-and- 
Hyde  part,  which  was  very  long  yet  called  for 
but  two  notes  of  his  voice — a  severe  physical 
strain,  and  he  said : 


SET 


"  John,  you're  tired." 

"  You  know,  Mr.  Irving,  it  is  longer  than  your 
great  speech  in  Macbeth.  I  have  been  advised 
by  our  New  York  physicians  not  to  do  it." 

Irving  looked  thoughtful  for  a  moment  or  two, 
which  is  a  long  period  of  silence  for  an  eloquent 
man.  Then  he  asked  : 

231 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STREET 

"  My  boy,  why  do  you  do  it  ?  " 

Members  of  the  Dramatists'  Club  (New  York) 
still  recall  with  delight  a  story  he  once  told  them 
and  which  promised  a  brilliant  climax  that  they 
could  distinctly  foresee.  The  end  was  quite  as 
effective  as  they  had  imagined,  yet  it  was  entirely 
different  and  consisted  of  but  two  words. 

Irving  can  turn  even  his  peculiarities  to  ac 
count  in  story-telling.  Like  any  other  man  of 
affairs  he  had  sudden  and  long  periods  of  absent- 
mindedness — which  means  that  his  mind  is  for 
the  time  being  not  only  not  absent  but  on  the 
contrary  is  entirely  present  and  working  at  the 
rate  of  an  hour  a  minute.  One  day  while  we 
were  driving  together  he  turned  to  me  and  said  : 

"  Marshall,  I  have  a  story  you  can  add  to  your 
repertoire — a  very  quaint  one."  Then  he  went 
into  deep  thought  and  we  had  gone  fully  a  block 
before  he  spoke  again ;  then  he  said : 

"  And  you  know " 

Then  we  went  another  block,  then  farther,  but 
suddenly  he  asked : 

"  Now  wasn't  that  droll  ?  "  It  certainly  was, 
no  matter  what  it  was,  if  he  said  so,  but  he  still 
owes  me  the  story,  for  he  had  told  it  only  to 
himself. 

Such  details  of  Irving's  thoughtful  ness — almost 
fatherly  solicitude,  for  other  members  of  his  pro 
fession,  as  have  become  generally  known  are  but 
232 


a  small  fraction  of  what  might  be  told  had  not 
the  beneficiaries  been  begged  to  hold  their 
tongues.  But  here  is  one  that  was  made  public 
by  my  friend,  E.  S.  Willard,  an  English  actor 
already  referred  to  and  very  popular  in  America. 
To  realize  its  significance,  one  must  imagine  him 
self  an  American  manager  with  an  appreciative 
eye  for  Lyceum  successes.  At  a  dinner  given  at 
Delmonico's  by  "Willard  to  Irving,  Mr.  Willard 
said: 

"  When  he  heard  of  my  first  venture  into  the 
United  States,  Mr.  Irving,  without  telling  me  of 
it,  wrote  a  lot  of  friends  over  here  that  I  was  not 
a  bad  sort  of  chap,  and  they  might  look  after  me 
a  bit.  He  gathered  around  me  the  night  before 
I  left  London,  a  lot  of  his  friends  whom  he  knew 
I  would  like  to  meet.  When  I  was  about  to  leave 
the  room  he  took  me  aside  and  said  : 

" '  If  you  find  when  you  get  to  the  other  side 
that  your  plays  don't  carry,  or  that  the  Ameri 
can  people  don't  take  to  them,  just  cable  me  one 
word.  Here  is  my  new  play  at  the  Lyceum,  a 
beautiful  success,  and  you  shall  have  it — words, 
music  and  all,  as  soon  as  the  steamer  can  get  it 
to  you.' " 

It  is  not  generally  known  that  before  being 
knighted  Sir  Henry  Irving  had  twice  refused  a 
title,  and  accepted  only  after  he  had  been  con 
vinced,  by  men  prominent  in  other  professions, 
233 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STREET 

that  his  "  elevation,"  as  the  English  call  it,  would 
redound  to  the  benefit  of  the  profession  at  large. 
Personally  the  rank  could  have  placed  him  no 
higher  socially  than  he  already  was,  for  ever 
since  he  became  known  he  has  been  surrounded 
by  an  aristocracy  of  brains.  He  will  not  and 
cannot  be  patronized,  and,  through  the  lasting 
respect  which  he  has  earned,  he  has  done  won- 


"  My  boy,  why  do  you  do  it  ? ' 


ders  for  the  dignity  of  the  actors'  calling.  His 
title  has  not  changed  his  manner  in  any  way. 
His  great  dinners  on  the  stage  of  the  Lyceum 
and  his  lunches  at  the  Beefsteak  Club  are  matters 
of  history.  His  social  engagements  are  as  nu 
merous  as  ever ;  often  he  does  not  retire  until 
three  or  four  o'clock  in  the  morning,  generally 
to  arise  in  time  to  conduct  a  rehearsal  at  ten,  so 
234 


SIE  HENEY  IEVING 

his  duties  require  an  executive  genius  equal  in 
degree  to  his  artistic  endowment. 

It  is  strange  to  many  people  that  a  man  of  Mr. 
Irving's  business  ability  and  personal  popularity 
should  be  in  comparatively  poor  circumstances 
instead  of  having  acquired  a  fortune.  He  lives 
plainly,  in  hired  rooms,  not  indulging  in  the 
luxury  of  a  house  of  his  own,  with  horses,  car 
riages,  etc.  He  spends  money  freely  for  books, 
and  professionally  for  anything  that  may  en 
hance  the  effect  of  his  art  and  that  of  his  theatre. 
But  the  few  incidents  cited  above,  are  illustra 
tions  of  the  manner  in  which  thousands  of  pounds 
have  leaked  from  his  pockets  and  show  that  it  is 
bigness  of  heart  that  keeps  Henry  Irving  from 
being  a  rich  man. 


235 


XVIII 
LONDON  THEATRES  AND  THEATRE-GOERS 

Why  English  and  American  Plays  do  Best  at  Home. — The  In 
telligent  Londoner  Takes  the  Theatre  Seriously. — Play- 
going  as  a  Duty. — The  High-class  English  Theatre  a  Costly 
Luxury. — American  Comedies  Too  Rapid  of  Action  to 
Please  the  English. — Bronson  Howard's  "Henrietta  "  Not 
Understood  in  London. — The  Late  Clement  Scott's  Influ 
ence  and  Personality. 

IBELIEYE  I  can  explain  why  most  English 
plays  have  failed  to  please  American  audi 
ences,  and  that  I  have  discovered  the  reason 
of  the  appalling  apathy  with  which  Londoners 
usually  receive  an  American  play. 

When  I  say  "  Londoners  "  I  refer  to  the  better 
class.  The  common  people  flock  to  the  comedies, 
farces  and  burlesques,  of  which  London  is  full ; 
they  laugh  at  whatever  is  placed  before  them  and 
demand  a  lot  more  of  the  same  kind.  But  the 
educated,  well-bred  Englishman  makes  a  serious 
matter  of  theatre-going.  He  goes  to  the  play 
with  the  same  face  that  he  displays  in  "  the  city," 
as  the  business  section  of  London  is  called.  He 
changes  his  clothes,  for  it  is  bad  form  not  to  be 
in  evening  dress  when  one  goes  to  a  London 
theatre  of  the  better  class.  But  he  does  not 
236 


LONDON  THEATRES  AND  THEATRE-GOEKS 

change  his  face.  Play-going  is  as  much  a  duty 
with  him,  as  business  is,  and  I  am  inclined  to  be 
lieve  it  is  quite  as  much  of  a  bore.  However 
that  may  be,  it  is  a  matter  of  his  serious  daily 
routine.  He  goes  to  the  theatre  to  think  ;  goes 
as  solemnly  as  an  American  on  his  way  to  church. 

Indeed,  the  talk  one  overhears  in  the  lobby  and 
stalls  of  a  high  class  English  theatre  recall  some 
church  experiences  to  an  American.  The  play  is 
analyzed  ;  so  are  its  parts,  as  if  the  whole  thing 
were  a  matter  of  conscience  or  morals,  as  occa 
sionally  it  is.  A  "  problem  "  play  which  would 
drive  Americans  out  of  a  theatre,  unless  in  Bos 
ton,  where  they  would  doze  through  the  per 
formance,  trusting  to  the  morning  papers  for 
points  enough  to  talk  about,  will  make  its  way 
to  the  profoundest  depths  of  the  English  heart 
and  head. 

It  must  not  be  inferred  that  English  gentle 
men  and  ladies  do  not  enjoy  good  comedies. 
They  are  grateful  for  anything  that  is  humorous 
and  witty,  but  they  regard  such  performances  as 
mere  relishes  or  dessert ;  the  piece  de  resistance 
must  be  solid. 

The  best  London  audiences  are  drawn  from  the 
fashionable  set — the  "  smart  set,"  all  members  of 
which  attend  the  theatre  whenever  their  even 
ings  are  unoccupied  by  social  duties.  There  are 
no  matinees — by  name  ;  the  English  say  "  morn- 
237 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

ing  performance,"  which  means  the  same  thing  ; 
and  of  course  "  morning  "  means  afternoon,  for 
the  fashionable  set  turn  night  into  day  so  suc 
cessfully,  that  the  old  fashioned  morning  is  gone 
before  they  get  out  of  bed. 

Only  a  man  of  good  income  can  afford  steady 
theatre-going  on  the  English  plan.     His  seat  costs 


|\ 


"  He  reads  what  the  papers  say  about  it." 

him  about  $2.75,  and  his  program  twenty-five 
cents  more ;  to  these  expenses  must  be  added 
cab  fares  both  ways,  for  your  Londoner  won't 
walk  more  than  a  block  after  dark,  if  he  can  help 
it.  After  he  has  seen  and  heard  the  performance 
238 


LONDON  THEATRES  AND  THEATEE-GOEES 

he  talks  a  lot  about  it,  and  thinks  it  over,  and 
next  day  reads  what  the  papers  say  about  it,  and 
these  say  as  much  and  say  it  as  seriously  as  if 
the  playhouses  were  of  as  much  importance  as 
the  House  of  Parliament.  Only  recently  have 
American  literary  weeklies  taken  up  the  theatres, 
but  the  Englishman  has  seen  solemn  critiques  of 
plays  in  the  Athenceum  and  Academy  ever  since 
he  began  to  read  those  papers. 

The  well-to-do  American  wants  change,  relax 
ation  and  fun  when  he  goes  to  the  theatre.  He 
is  fully  as  intellectual  as  his  English  cousin  and 
has  quite  as  keen  comprehension  of  the  best  dra 
matic  work ;  this  is  proved  by  his  enthusiastic 
support  of  all  productions  of  Shakespeare.  But 
a  coldly  correct  drama  with  a  sad  end  does  not 
appeal  to  him,  no  matter  how  good  the  acting. 

American  plays  are  usually  too  compact  and 
too  rapid  of  action  to  succeed  on  the  English 
stage.  Bronson  Howard's  brilliant  "  Henrietta  " 
was  highly  praised  by  the  London  press  and 
Londoners  "loyally  try  to  like  whatever  their 
newspaper  tells  them  to.  Yet  "  The  Henrietta  " 
did  not  quite  suit.  The  audience  simply  could 
not  understand  the  character  of  "  Bertie "  the 
millionaire's  indolent,  cheery,  stupid  son  who 
pretended  to  be  a  devil  of  a  fellow  at  his  club, 
but  really  had  no  head  for  liquor  and  tobacco 
nor  any  heart  for  the  society  of  chorus  girls. 
239 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

London  society  has  many  young  men  with  some 
one  of  Bertie's  peculiarities,  but  the  combination 
— why,  as  one  Londoner  said  :  "  No  chap  can  be 
so  many  things,  don't  you  know." 

Even  Mr.  J.  L.  Shine,  the  accomplished  actor 
who  played  the  part,  did  not  seem  to  understand 
it.  Another  mistake  \vas  with  "  The  little 
English  Lord,"  as  he  was  called  in  the  play — a 
lordling  whom  a  rich  American  girl  had  married. 
Here  he  was  a  fussy  little  fellow,  an  undersized 
dude — a  caricature,  in  fact,  and  made  no  end  of 
fun,  but  on  the  London  stage  he  was  the  real 
thing,  and  taken  seriously.  The  management 
seemed  to  be  afraid  to  travesty  so  sacred  a  per 
sonage  as  a  noble  lord.  I  imagine  this  was  a 
mistake,  for  at  least  a  portion  of  the  British  peo 
ple  had  been  so  far  emancipated  as  to  appreciate 
fun  poked  at  the  "  hupper  classes." 

I  have  mentioned  London's  respect  for  dra 
matic  criticism.  Let  us  admit  for  a  moment 
that  London  is  the  centre  of  the  universe — the 
great  wheel  that  sets  all  the  rest  in  motion,  and 
that  what  is  successful  there  ought  to  succeed 
everywhere  else — even  if  it  doesn't.  Then,  in 
logical  sequence,  let  us  understand  that  the 
greatest  critic  of  the  metropolis  can  make  or 
break  any  "  attraction,"  and  that  this  command 
ing  position  was  held  by  the  late  Clement  Scott, 
— poet,  litterateur  and  playwright,  for  more 
240 


LONDON  THEATEES  AND  THEATEE-GOEES 

than  a  quarter  of  a  century  and  have  we  not 
practically  admitted  that  Mr.  Scott  was  theat 
rical  dictator  of  the  universe  ? 

Even  logic  is  sometimes  at  fault.  I  remember 
being  taught  at  school  that  dry  bread  was  bet 
ter  than  heaven,  because  dry  bread  is  better 
than  nothing  and  nothing  is  better  than  heaven 
— see  ?  This  is  not  cited  to  imply  that  what  I 
have  said  of  Clement  Scott  is  wrong,  but  to  con 
vince  the  skeptical  that  all  men  cannot  be  ex 
pected  to  reason  alike. 

There  was  no  doubt  of  the  greatness  of  the 
London  Daily  Telegraphs  critic,  for  nothing  was 
easier  of  comprehension.  He  was  a  master  of 
\vord-painting  ;  the  grace  and  truthfulness  of  his 
word-pictures  were  evident  to  the  most  careless 
reader.  There  was  nothing  vulgar  or  flippant  in 
anything  he  wrote,  and  irrelevant  witticisms, 
such  as  many  would-be  critics  indulge  in,  were 
entirely  lacking  in  his  work.  Slow  to  condemn, 
when  he  corrected  a  player  the  work  was  done 
with  gracious  gentleness,  although  his  satire, 
when  needed,  was  biting  and  deep.  In  the 
righting  of  wrongs  he  proved  himself  utterly 
fearless,  and  regardless  of  consequences  to  him- 
self.  By  this  course  he  made  many  friends  and 
more  enemies.  Indeed,  one  of  his  peculiarities 
was  his  readiness  to  make  an  enemy,  if  by  so 
doing  he  could  win  a  friend. 
241 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STREET 

Mr.  Scott  was  truly  a  friend  to  the  friendless, 
a  helper  of  the  helpless  and  a  clever  adviser  to 
all.  Both  he  and  his  wife  were  very  active  in 
charitable  work,  but  his  greatest  energies  seemed 
to  have  been  exerted  in  securing  employment 
for  needy  actors  and  aiding  aspiring  ones  by 
word  and  deed,  for  he  did  so  much  for  both 
classes  that  his  friends  wondered  how  he  found 
time  for  anything  else.  His  kindness  knew  no 
bounds  of  nation  or  tongue,  and  the  antagonism 
supposed  to  exist  between  Englishmen  and 
Americans  found  no  echo  in  his  big  heart. 

In  appearance  Mr.  Scott  resembled  a  rugged 
oak-tree  that  has  grown  so  vigorously  in  all 
directions  that  any  part  seems  fully  as  strong  as 
any  other.  He  was  rather  tall,  with  broad 
shoulders  that  drooped  slightly,  and  was  quite 
fleshy  although  not  obese.  His  ears  were  set 
far  back  on  his  head  and  his  face,  though  intel 
lectual,  was  largely  modeled — high  forehead, 
heavy  eyebrows,  kind  and  thoughtful  gray  eyes, 
a  large  nose  and  mouth  and  in  his  later  years 
a  white  moustache.  His  hands,  though  large, 
were  so  shapely  as  to  command  attention. 

In  manner  he  was  emphatic  but  never  dogmatic, 
as  some  members  of  his  profession  are.  His 
prominence  was  greater  than  can  be  imagined  in 
the  United  States,  where  the  people  seldom  know 
the  names  of  the  dramatic  critics  whose  work 
242 


LONDON  THEATEES  AND  THEATEE-GOEES 

they  most  admire,  yet  he  was  as  modest  and  un 
affected  as  any  of  his  admirers.  There  was 
nothing  of  the  ergo  ego  about  him,  nor  anything 
pretentious.  Yet  there  lurked  behind  his  mild, 
quiet  manner  an  enthusiasm  for  work  and  a 
scholarly  application  to  work,  that  were  ab 
solutely  remarkable.  At  the  theatre  he  was  the 
last  man  whom  a  stranger  would  suspect  of  be 
ing  a  critic,  for  the  bored  look  and  the  feigned 
weariness  that  some  of  the  dramatic  reviewers 
affect  were  entirely  lacking  in  him.  He  did 
not  even  make  notes  on  his  programme.  Men, 
like  Scott  do  not  have  to  affect  wisdom  or  the 
resigned  look  that  is  supposed  to  result  from  it. 
I  know  a  young  whipper-snapper  with  a  nice, 
fast-black  bored  look  that  cost  years  of  effort  to 
cultivate.  He  is  said  to  wrap  it  in  a  silk  hand 
kerchief  and  keep  it  in  a  bureau  drawer  when 
not  in  use,  but  he  never  forgets  to  dust  it  and 
have  it  properly  adjusted  when  he  calls  on  a 
lady  or  attends  the  theatre. 

Clement  Scott  was  not  that  kind  of  man.  He 
had  some  little  peculiarities,  like  all  men  of 
genius  but  they  were  neither  affected  nor  obtru 
sive.  The  most  noticeable  of  these  was  a  habit 
of  saying  "yes,  yes,"  and  "what?"  continually. 
Some  of  his  gestures  were  a  bit  odd  and  he  had 
an  amusing  way  of  belittling  his  own  work.  He 
said  to  me  one  day, 

243 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OP  THE  STEEET 

"  I  make  no  money  from  my  books.  It  is  all  I 
can  do  to  give  them  away." 

He  had  the  coziest  possible  little  home  at 
15  Woburn  Square,  London,  and  a  wife  who 
would  reflect  honor  on  any  mansion  in  the  land. 
Her  portrait  hangs  before  me  while  I  write — the 


"  A  nice  fast  black  bored  look  that  cost 
years  of  effort  to  cultivate." 

face  of  an  intelligent,  refined,  charming  English 
lady,  and  on  its  margin  is  written  "  Yours  in  all 
faith,  Margaret  Clement  Scott."  That  describes 
her  perfectly — "in  all  faith"  she  was  the  best 
possible  helper  to  her  husband,  aiding  him  in  his 
correspondence,  taking  proper  care  of  his  memo- 
244 


LONDON  THEATEES  AND  THEATRE  GOERS 

randa,  writing  at  his  dictation  and  assisting  him 
in  many  other  ways. 

In  Mr.  Scott's  study  were  man}7  hundred  valu 
able  books,  some  of  which  are  very  rare,  and  a 
great  collection  of  curios.  One  of  the  walls  was 
hung  with  old  prints  of  noted  theatrical  people 
of  earlier  generations ;  another  with  fine  china. 
The  room  was  richly  furnished  and  had  an  air  of 
oriental  luxury  which,  combined  with  picturesque 
disorder,  was  more  than  charming — it  was  be- 
wilderingly  bewitching.  In  one  corner  was  an 
interesting  souvenir  in  a  frame;  his  first  letter  of 
credential  as  dramatic  critic,  and  was  given  by 
the  Sunday  Times,  with  which  he  was  first  con 
nected  ;  he  went  to  the  Telegraph  in  1872. 

Mr.  Scott  was  playwright  as  well  as  critic  and 
had  several  plays  successfully  produced — "Tears, 
Idle  Tears,"  an  adaptation  from  Marcel ;  "  Peril," 
taken  from  Sardou's  "Nos  Intimes,"  "Diplo 
macy,"  written  in  collaboration  with  B.  C. 
Stephenson ;  "  Sister  Mary,"  of  which  Wilson 
Barrett  was  part  author ;  "  Jack  in  the  Box  " 
(with  George  K.  Sims)  ;  "  The  Cape  Mail,"  "  Serge 
Panine,"  adapted  from  Georges  Ohnet  for  Mrs. 
Langtry,  "The  Swordsman's  Daughter,"  in 
which  Brandon  Thomas  had  a  hand  and 
"Denise,"  in  collaboration  with  Sir  Augustus 
Harris.  Among  his  published  books  are  "  Bound 
About  the  Islands  "  ;  "  Poppyland  "  ;  "  Pictures 
245 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

of  the  World  " ;  "  Among  the  Apple  Orchards  "  ; 
"  Over  the  Hills  and  Far  away  " ;  "  The  Land  of 
Flowers  " ;  "  Thirty  Years  at  the  Play  "  ;  "  Dra 
matic  Table  Talk";  "The  Wheel  of  Life"; 
"Lays  of  a  Londoner n;  "Lays  and  Lyrics"; 
"  Theatrical  Addresses "  and  his  famous  "  Pa 
triot  Songs." 


246 


XIX 

TACT 

An  Important  Factor  of  Success. — Better  than  Diplomacy. — 
Some  Noted  Possessors  of  Tact. — James  G.  Elaine. — King 
Edward  VII. — Queen  Alexandra. — Henry  Ward  Beecher. 
— Mme.  Patti. — Mrs.  Ronalds. — Mrs.  Cleveland. — Mrs. 
Langtry. — Colonel  Ingersoll. —  Mrs.  Kendall. — General 
Sherman. — Chauncey  M.  Depew. —  Mrs.  James  Brown 
Potter. —  Mme.  Nordica. 

I   HAVE  had  the  good  fortune  to  meet  a 
great  many  distinguished  people,  and  the 
misfortune  of  hearing  many  of  these  talked 
of  afterward  as  if  human  greatness  was  merely 
a  machine,  which  had  some  peculiar  secret  of 
motion.     I  don't  like  to  listen  to  analyses  of  my 
friends  and  acquaintances ;  it  is  too  much  like 
vivisection  ;  it  is  unkind  to  the  subject  and  hard 
ens  whoever  conducts  the  operation. 

Besides,  I  have  a  theory  of  my  own  as  to 
greatness.  It  is  that  tact  is  generally  the  secret. 
Almost  all  famous  men  and  women  admit  that 
certain  other  people  are  superior  to  them  at  their 
own  special  work.  They  will  attribute  some  of 
their  success  to  luck  and  some  to  accident,  but 
the  close  observer  can  usually  see  that  tact  has 
247 


had  far  more  influence  than  either,  for  success 
depends  largely  on  getting  along  well  with  other 
people,  and  nothing  but  tact  can  assure  this. 

Diplomacy  alone  cannot  take  the  place  of  tact, 
for  it  comes  only  from  the  head ;  tact  is  from  the 
heart.  The  prominent  people  to  whom  I  refer 
did  not  lack  great  qualities  of  head ;  they  would 
have  failed  without  them,  but  these  alone  would 
have  been  insufficient  without  the  softer  sense — 
"  The  inmost  one,"  as  Hawthorne  named  it ;  the 
quality  to  which  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes  referred 
when  he  said — "  I  am  getting  in  by  the  side 
door."  Diplomacy,  as  distinguished  from  tact,  is 
something  with  a  string  to  it :  or  playing  for  a 
place;  tact  is  a  subtle,  timely  touch  from  the 
heart. 

A  few  years  ago  I  returned  from  Europe  on 
the  steamer  with  Mr.  James  Gr.  Elaine.  Every 
one  on  board  wanted  to  talk  with  him  and  learn 
of  things  which  taste  and  prudence  forbade  his 
mentioning.  Yet  Mr.  Elaine  was  so  tactful 
throughout  this  ordeal,  that  no  one  suffered  a  re 
buff  and  every  one  became  his  friend.  He  went 
further  by  discovering  the  good  but  shrinking 
people  who  in  a  great  ship  became  isolated,  and 
bringing  them  into  the  general  company  and 
conversation.  Yet  all  the  while  he  was  a  model 
to  many  other  married  men  on  board  by  his 

constant  and  knightly  courtesy  to  his  own  wife. 
248 


TACT 

I  have  referred  elsewhere  to  the  tact  of  King 
Edward  VII  of  Great  Britain,  the  most  popular 
sovereign  in  Europe.  This  quality  is  not  re 
stricted  to  public  purposes  ;  his  acquaintances 
know  that  it  is  untiringly  exercised  for  the  benefit 
of  Queen  Alexandra,  of  whose  deafness  he  is 
never  unmindful.  Often,  when  I  had  the  honor 
to  entertain  the  royal  family  and  their  friends,  it 
was  my  duty  to  face  the  King  (then  Prince  of 
Wales).  Sometimes  this  placed  me — embarrass 
ingly  too,  with  my  back  to  the  greater  part  of 
the  audience.  But  the  Prince  was  regardless  of 
custom  and  his  own  royal  prerogative,  when  his 
consort's  enjoyment  was  endangered  ;  on  one  oc 
casion  when  he  saw  that  the  Princess  was  not 
hearing  me  distinctly,  he  said  softly  to  me,  "  Mr. 
"Wilder,  kindly  turn  your  face  toward  the  Prin 
cess  ! " 

And  Her  Koyal  Highness  is  as  tactful  as  he. 
The  audience  at  a  special  entertainment  given  the 
Shah  of  Persia  in  London  included  the  most  dis 
tinguished  and  wealthy  people  in  the  city.  I 
was  among  those  engaged  to  entertain  the  Shah, 
beside  whom  sat  the  Princess  (now  Queen  Alex 
andra).  As  His  Persian  Majesty  was  ignorant  of 
the  English  lauguage  it  was  not  strange  that  he 
held  his  programme  upside  down.  This  might 
have  occasioned  a  laugh  and  caused  the  Shah  some 
mortification  had  not  the  Princess  deftly  turned 
249 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

her  own  programme  upside  down  and  kept  it  so 
during  the  performance. 

One  of  the  "  nerviest  "  illustrations  of  tact  is 
to  the  credit  of  Henry  "Ward  Beecher.  After  the 
war,  he  made  a  lecture  tour  of  the  South  and  ap 
peared  at  Mozart  Hall,  Kichmond,  with  an  ad 
dress  entitled, "  The  North  and  The  South."  He 


"  The  Shah  held  His  Program  Upside  Down." 


was  rather  doubtful  as  to  the  reception  he  would 
have  but  he  knew  what  he  wanted  and  was  de 
termined  to  get  it.  No  applause  welcomed  him 
as  he  appeared  on  the  platform,  but  a  few  hisses 
were  heard  in  the  gallery.  In  the  better  rows  of 
seats  were  some  grim  ex-Confederates  —  General 
250 


TACT 

Fitzhugh  Lee,  General  Kosser,  ex-Governor 
Smith,  Governor  Cameron  and  others.  Beecher 
fixed  his  eye  directly  on  Lee  and  said — (I  quote 
a  newspaper  report  of  the  incident) : 

"  I  have  seen  pictures  of  General  Fitzhugh 
Lee,  sir,  and  I  assume  you  are  the  man.  Am  I 
right?" 

The  General,  slightly  taken  back  by  this  direct 
address,  nodded  stiffly,  while  the  audience  bent 
forward,  breathless  with  curiosity  as  to  what  was 
going  to  follow. 

"  Then,"  said  Mr.  Beecher,  his  face  lighting  up, 
"  I  want  to  offer  you  this  right  hand,  which,  in 
its  own  way,  fought  against  you  and  yours, 
years  ago,  but  which  I  would  now  willingly  sac 
rifice  to  make  the  sunny  South  prosperous  and 
happy.  Will  you  take  it,  General  ?  "  There  was 
a  moment's  hesitation,  a  moment  of  deathlike 
stillness  in  the  hall,  and  then  Fitzhugh  Lee  was 
on  his  feet,  his  hand  was  extended  across  the 
footlights  and  was  quickly  met  by  the  warm 
grasp  of  the  preacher's.  At  first  there  was  a 
murmur,  half  of  surprise  and  half  of  doubtfulness 
from  the  audience,  then  there  was  a  hesitating 
clapping  of  hands,  and  before  Beecher  had  un 
loosed  the  hand  of  Robert  E.  Lee's  nephew,  there 
were  cheers  such  as  were  never  before  heard  in 
old  Mozart,  though  it  had  been  the  scene  of  many 
a  war  and  political  meeting.  But  this  was  only 
251 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

the  beginning  of  the  enthusiasm.  When  the 
noise  subsided,  Mr.  Beecher  continued, 

"  "When  I  go  back  home,  I  shall  proudly  tell 
that  I  have  grasped  the  hand  of  the  nephew  of 
the  great  Southern  chieftain ;  I  shall  tell  my  peo 
ple  that  I  went  to  the  Confederate  capital  with  a 
heart  full  of  love  for  the  people  whom  my  prin 
ciples  once  obliged  me  to  oppose  and  that  I  was 
met  half-way  by  the  brave  Southerners,  who  can 
forgive  as  well  as  they  can  fight." 

Five  minutes  of  applause  followed,  and  then, 
Mr.  Beecher,  having  gained  the  hearts  of  his  au 
dience,  began  his  lecture  and  was  applauded  to 
the  echo.  That  night,  he  entered  his  carriage 
and  drove  to  his  hotel  amid  shouts  such  as  have 
never  greeted  a  Northern  man  in  Kichmond  since 
the  war. 

"Women  who  are  prominent  as  hostesses  are 
always  remarkable  for  tact.  No  matter  how 
they  may  differ  in  years,  beauty,  tastes,  national 
ity,  attainments  and  means,  they  are  classed  to 
gether  by  their  tact,  in  the  minds  of  men  who 
know  them  and  know  also  how  arduous  are  the 
duties  of  a  successful  hostess.  I  know  many 
such  women, — Madame  Patti,  Mrs.  Konalds,  who 
is  one  of  the  most  distinguished  Americans  in 
London,  Mrs.  John  A.  Mackey,  the  Baroness  de 
Bazus  (Mrs.  Frank  Leslie),  Mrs.  Kendal — but  I 
could  fill  a  chapter  with  names.  The  power  of 
252 


TACT 

these  women  in  the  drawing-room  is  simply  mar 
velous.  Their  consummate  tact  is  something  for 
civilization  in  general  to  be  proud  of.  It  matters 
not  if  they  are  not  in  their  best  health  and  spirits 
and  mood  ;  everything  uncongenial  in  themselves 
is  hidden  by  their  gracious  welcome,  like  Ham 
let's  father's  ghost  by  the  rising  sun.  In  a  large 


"  There  is  Apt  to  Be  a  Social  Tangle." 


company  there  is  likely  to  be  a  social  knot  or 
tangle  that  would  appal  a  well  meaning  novice 
in  the  role  of  hostess,  but  the  woman  who  is  fit 
for  the  position  knows  what  to  ignore  and  what 
to  illumine. 

And  cleverness  at  introductions  in  a  large  com 
pany — what  a  world  of  tact  it  requires  !     Small 
wonder  that  introductions  are  few  at  most  fash- 
253 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

* 

ionable  affairs.  But  the  tactful  hostess  keeps 
untoward  spirits  apart  and  welds  congenial  souls 
together  ;  some  of  the  world's  closest  friendships 
have  come  of  able  hostesses'  introductions  of  peo 
ple  who  otherwise  would  never  have  met. 

But  what  keen  watchfulness  and  knowledge 
this  presupposes,  of  the  jealousies,  petty  or  large, 
whether  in  politics,  literature,  art,  the  drama,  of 
a  large  assemblage  of  representative  people !  It 
requires  nothing  less  than  genius  to  peep  into 
the  nooks  and  crannies  of  the  hearts  about  them, 
throbbing  with  varied  purposes  and  passions,  but 
these  women  possess  it.  Hence  they  are  centres 
in  themselves,  about  which  antipathetic  souls 
may  gather  with  a  common  good- will  and  cordial 
good  word.  It  takes  all  these  qualities  to  be  a 
leader  in  society :  many  women  possess  them, 
but  compared  with  all  who  should,  how  few  they 
are! 

I  know  one  woman  who  possesses  them  all 
supremely.  She  is  a  wonder,  even  among 
Americans.  Her  name  is  Mrs.  Grover  Cleve 
land.  Think  of  that  schoolgirl  passing  from 
books  to  White  House  receptions  and  diplomatic 
balls,  from  the  quick  but  embarrassed  flush  of 
eighteen  years,  to  the  sustained,  well-poised 
position  of  first  lady  of  the  land  "  all  in  a  twin 
kling  "  and,  more's  the  wonder,  all  in  a  triumph ! 
She  went  through  her  ordeal  at  Washington,  for 
254 


TACT 

it  was  an  ordeal,  without  having  an  enemy  in 
that  Babel  of  bickerings,  cunning  social  plots 
and  desperate  plunges  after  prestige.  The  plat 
form  of  the  politicians  was  tariff  reform,  the 
people's  was  Mr.  Cleveland,  little  Ruth,  furnish 
ing  the  "  Bye  Baby  Bunting  "  plank. 

The  way  this  remarkable  woman  earned  love 
and  respect,  was  illustrated  by  a  little  scene,  that 
came  under  my  eye  at  Lakewood.  The  parlor 
of  the  hotel  is  so  large  that  men  can  stand  at 
one  end  of  it  with  their  hats  on  and  escape 
criticism.  But  one  day,  when  Mrs.  Cleveland, 
unattended,  entered  at  the  other  end,  with 
girlish  haste  and  captivating  naturalness,  all 
heads  were  uncovered  in  an  instant.  She 
merely  wished  to  find  a  friend  who  was  dining 
at  the  time,  so  she  walked  to  the  table  of  her 
friend.  All  eyes  were  upon  her,  but  she  mani 
fested  no  consciousness.  She  with  her  friend 
slipped  out  of  the  room  and  into  the  elevator, 
and  probably  up-stairs  for  a  cozy  chat.  She  was 
not  thinking  of  the  admiring  glances  of  hun 
dreds,  but  only  in  a  great-hearted,  every-day 
way  of  her  friend.  Such  is  the  woman.  She 
has  won  her  crown,  woven  from  the  blossoms  of 
the  people's  love,  and  she  wears  it  gracefully. 

No  woman  of  my  acquaintance  has  more  tact 
than  Mrs.  Langtry.  I  will  guarantee,  that  her 
use  of  it  will  win  any  man  who  may  meet  her. 
255 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STKEET 

When  she  was  last  in  New  York  a  certain  news 
paper  man  was  "cutting"  her  savagely.  Did 
she  horsewhip  him  after  the  manner  of  some  in 
dignant  actress  ?  Nay,  nay  !  First  she  learned 
who  he  was,  then  she  determined  to  meet  him. 
Her  manager  invited  the  young  man  to  dine 
with  him  at  Delmonico's,  and  the  invitation 
was  accepted.  While  at  dinner  the  manager 
accidentally  (?)  saw  Mrs.  Langtry,  at  another 
table,  in  the  same  great  dining-room  and  ex 
claimed, 

"  By  Jove  !  There's  Mrs.  Langtry !  "Would 
you  like  to  meet  her  ?  "  The  scribe  hesitated  ; 
then  consented.  "  First,  let  me  ask  her  per 
mission,"  adroitly  continued  the  manager. 

"  I  shall  be  delighted  to  meet  him,"  was  the 
lady's  reply.  Two  moments  later  the  scribe  and 
the  actress  were  in  close  conversation ;  the 
young  man  was  invited  to  Langtry's  hotel ;  he 
walked  down  Broadway  with  her  to  the  Hoff 
man  House,  and  he  knew  a  thousand  men  saw 
him  and  envied  him.  In  the  following  week,  his 
paper  contained  a  beautiful  article  on  Langtry. 
The  question  may  be  asked,  "Was  this  tact  or 
diplomacy?"  But  every  one  ought  to  know 
that  mere  diplomacy  could  never  make  a  dra 
matic  critic  change  his  tone  so  startlingly. 

But  tact  is  not  confined  to  incidents  in  the 
world's  eye.  Several  years  ago,  when  that 
256 


TACT 

clever  and  beautiful  young  woman  Mrs.  James 
G.  Elaine,  Jr.  (now  Mrs.  Dr.  Bull),  was  greatly 
afflicted  with  rheumatism,  her  friend,  Mrs.  Ken- 
dal,  the  well  known  English  actress,  advised 
massage.  Mrs.  Elaine  objected,  she  disliked  the 
idea,  but  Mrs.  Kendal  won  her  over  by  calling 
every  day  and  massaging  the  sufferer  with  her 
own  hands. 

Men  can  do  the  tactful  thing  as  well  as 
women,  and  it  is  to  their  credit  that  they  often 
do  it  when  they  can't  imagine  that  any  one 
will  ever  know  of  it  but  the  beneficiary.  One 
rainy  day  at  Broadway  and  Twenty-third  Street, 
an  ill-clad,  shivering  fellow  stood,  probably  he 
had  nowhere  in  particular  to  go,  and  would 
rather  look  at  people  than  think  of  himself  and 
his  condition.  I  saw  a  tall,  stout  man  with  an 
intellectual,  kind  face  stop,  hold  his  umbrella 
over  the  tramp,  and  engage  him  in  conversation; 
it  was  a  mean  place  to  stand,  too,  for  crowds 
were  hurrying  past  the  big  policeman  standing 
at  the  crossing.  I  dashed  in  front  of  the  chap 
the  instant  the  tall  man  left  him. 

"  See  what  that  man  gave  me ! "  he  said, 
showing  me  a  two  dollar  bill. 

"  It's  no  wonder,"  I  replied ;  "  that  was  Colo 
nel  Bob  Ingersoll ! " 

"  Hully  gee  ! "  the  man  exclaimed.  "  I've 
heard  o'  him.  And  here's  what  else  he  gave  me 
257 


THE  STJKtfY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

— listen."  The  Colonel  had  told  him  the  story  of 
"  Nobody's  Dog,"  as  follows  : — 

"  A  poor  brute  of  a  dog  entered  a  hotel  with 
three  travelers.  '  Walk  in,  gents,'  said  the  host 
heartily.  '  Fine  dog,  that ;  is  he  yours,  sir  ? ' 

"  *  No,'  said  one  of  the  men,  and  '  No,'  *  No,' 
repeated  the  others. 


"  I  Saw  Him  Hold  His  Um 
brella  Over  a  Tramp." 

" '  Then  he's  nobody's  dog,'  said  the  host,  as  he 
kicked  the  cur  into  the  street. 

"  You're  nobody's  dog,  but  here  you  are,"  said 
the  Colonel  in  conclusion,  pressing  the  money 
into  his  hand  and  hurrying  away. 

I  have  myself  been  the  gainer  by  the  tact  of 
some  men,  who  would  have  been  excusable  for 
258 


TACT 

having  their  minds  full  of  some  one  of  more  im 
portance,  so  I  am  correspondingly  grateful.  Dear 
General  Sherman  was  one  of  these ;  his  tact  was 
as  effective  in  civil  life  as  his  armies  had  been  on 
the  battle-field.  In  the  fall  of  1899,  just  after  I 
had  published  my  book — "The  People  I  Have 
Smiled  With,"  I  received  the  following  written 
by  the  General's  private  secretary. 

"  MY  DEAR  SIR  : 

"  I  beg  you  to  accept  my  hearty  thanks  for  a 
copy  of  your  book,  the  same  which,  I  assure  you, 
will  give  me  much  pleasure  in  perusing. 
"  With  best  wishes,  as  always,  I  am, 

"  Your  friend, 
(Signed)    "  W.  T.  SHERMAN, 

"General." 

Evidently  the  General  thought  a  moment  after 
signing  the  above,  for  he  wrote  at  the  bottom  of 
the  sheet  "  Over,"  where  he  added  in  his  own 
handwriting : 

"  Pardon  me  for  this  seemingly  formal  answer 
to  your  bright  and  cheery  volume,  which,  as  yet, 
I  have  merely  glanced  at,  but  contemplate  much 
pleasure  and  profit  in  reading.  The  'Introduc 
tion,'  by  our  mutual  friend  '  Cockerill,'  is  so  touch 
ing  that  it  calls  for  the  sympathetic  tear,  rather 
than  a  smile  ;  so  are  your  opening  words  in  the 
first  chapter  about  your  acquaintance  with 
Beecher,  etc.,  etc.  But  more  in  the  hereafter. 

"I  am  glad  you  enroll  me  in  your  list  of 
259 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STKEET 

friends,  and  will  be  only  too  happy  to  smile  with 
you  in  person  over  your  types,  as  occasion  may 
require. 

"  Your  sincere  friend, 

"  W.  T.  SHERMAN." 

I  might  also  call  attention  to  the  above  as  an 
illustration  of  the  occasional  opaqueness  of  the 
private  secretary  as  a  medium  between  great  men 
and  their  personal  friends,  however  humble. 

I  was  at  Chicago's  famous  hotel,  "  The  Audi 
torium"  during  the  dedicatory  exercises  of  the 
Columbian  Exposition,  more  popularly  known  as 
"  Chicago's  "World's  Fair."  A  great  dinner  had 
been  given  the  evening  before  to  men  distin 
guished  throughout  the  world.  The  affair  was 
under  the  direction  of  the  Fellowship  Club,  prom 
inent  in  which  was  Editor  Scott  of  the  Chicago 
Herald,  and  such  a  gathering  of  famous  men  I 
had  never  seen  before.  Richard  Harding  Davis 
described  it  graphically  in  Harper's  Weekly, 

Next  morning  quite  naturally,  the  atmosphere 
of  the  hotel  was  hazy  and  dazy.  Such  of  us  as 
dropped  into  the  cafe  for  breakfast  were  not  es 
pecially  "  noticing." 

I  sat  alone  at  the  end  of  the  room.  In  came 
Chauncey  M.  Depew  with  a  handsome  young 
lady.  Before  long  his  quick  eye  discerned  me 
in  my  isolation.  He  arose,  walked  the  entire 
length  of  that  great  room,  leaned  over  me  and  said, 
260 


TACT 

"  Marsh,  most  through  your  breakfast  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"Then  come  over  and  be  introduced  to  my 
niece.  She  wants  to  meet  the  celebrities  of  the 
day."  Continuing  he  was  kind  enough  to  say 
that  some  of  my  recently  delivered  jokes  were 
new,  and  he  must  have  been  right,  for  I  heard 
afterward  that  he  used  them  himself.  But  many 
men  of  less  importance  would  have  sent  a  waiter 
for  me  instead  of  coming  in  person ;  many  more 
would  have  succeeded  in  not  seeing  me  at  all. 

When  Mrs.  James  Brown  Potter  first  visited 
London,  she  was  chaperoned  by  Mrs.  Paran 
Stevens,  whose  daughter,  Lady  Paget,  was  a  mem 
ber  of  the  Prince's  set,  and  had  full  entree  to  all 
social  circles.  On  one  occasion  Mr.  Wilson  Bar 
rett  set  aside  a  box  for  Mrs.  Stevens,  Mrs.  Potter, 
and  their  friends,  I  being  among  the  number  in 
vited  to  see  "  Clito  "  performed. 

In  London  it  is  the  pleasant  custom  for  the 
actor-manager  to  send  up  refreshments,  ices,  etc., 
between  the  acts,  and  invite  his  guests  down  into 
his  dressing-room.  Eccentric  Mrs.  Stevens  hesi 
tated  when  asked  to  join  us  all  in  going  down 
stairs  to  visit  Mr.  Barrett  between  the  acts.  It 
may  have  been  that  she  did  not  wish  to  incur  a 
social  obligation,  but  whatever  the  reason,  Mrs. 
Potter,  with  infinite  tact,  assumed  the  role  of 
charmed  and  charming  guest,  allowing  Mrs. 
261 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

Stevens  to  remain  quietly  unobserved  and  free 
from  any  future  embarrassment. 

Mme.  Nordica  displayed  her  charming  tactful- 
ness  one  Sunday  at  a  musicale  given  by  Mrs. 
Ronalds  in  London.  It  was  when  peace  was  de 
clared  between  England  and  the  Boers.  The 
news  arrived  about  4  p.  M.  Instantly  Mme. 
Nordica  sprang  to  her  feet,  and  sang  "  God  Save 
the  King."  It  was  most  inspiring,  coming  just  as 
it  did,  and  those  who  were  present  will  never  for 
get  how  the  people  stood  about  clapping  their 
hands  and  rejoicing  over  this  great  event,  which 
was  announced  by  an  American. 


262 


XX 

ADELINA  PATTI 

Her  home  in  Wales. — Some  of  Her  Pets. — An  Ocean  Voyage 
With  Her. — The  Local  Reception  at  Her  Home-Coming. — 
Mistress  of  an  Enormous  Castle  and  a  Great  Retinue  of 
Servants. — Her  Winter  Garden  and  Private  Theatre. — A 
Most  Hospitable  and  Charming  Hostess. — Her  Local  Chari 
ties  Are  Continuous  and  Many. 

CRAIG- Y-NOS  (Craig-of-the-Night)  in  the 
Swansea    Valley,    Ystradgnlais,    South 
Wales,  by  river  and  meadow  and  moun 
tain,  is  the  home  of  Madame  Patti. 

Among  madame's  pets  at  her  castle  is  one 
Jumbo,  an  American  parrot,  who  carried  with  him 
to  Wales  his  country's  admiration  for  his  mistress. 
For  when  she  goes  forth  into  the  great  world,  he 
puts  on  a  dejected  bearing,  and  in  a  voice  touched 
with  tears  keeps  calling,  "  Where  is  Patti  ?  Where 
is  Patti  ? "  But  the  parrot  only  gives  word  to 
what  is  felt  by  all  the  good  folks  of  Swansea  Yal- 
ley ;  for  the  pets  and  the  people,  of  high  and  low 
degree,  miss  this  wonderful  little  woman  when 
she  is  away,  and  she  in  turn  longs  for  her  pets 
and  her  peasants,  her  country  roads  and  princely 
retreat,  with  that  whole-hearted  longing  which 
doubtless  gives  much  to  the  depth  of  feeling  the 
263 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STREET 

world  knows  in  her  rendition  of  "Home,  Sweet 
Home."  This  little  song,  that  makes  the  whole 
world  kin,  bears  to  the  difficult  song  work  of 
Patti  some  such  relation  as  does  her  life  of  art- 
lessness  to  her  life  of  art.  Her  nature  undis 
guised  is  childlike  and  spontaneous. 

When  I  took  ship  on  the  City  of  New  York  in 
May,  1892,  in  the  same  party  with  Madame  Patti, 
and  her  husband,  Signer  Nicolini,  she  was  full  of 
greetings,  and  words  of  parting  to  those  coming 
and  going  just  before  we  sailed. 

Nicolini's  devotion  to  his  wife  was  the  remark 
of  the  ship.  He  was  ever  thoughtful  of  her,  and 
his  services  were  continual,  from  his  first  one  in 
the  morning,  that  of  delivering  her  mail  to  her. 

Previous  to  sailing,  a  Boston  lady  friend  had 
sent  aboard  seven  or  eight  letters,  with  the  direc 
tion  that  one  should  each  morning  be  delivered 
to  Madame  Patti.  What  a  merrymaking  there 
was  when  the  usual,  or  rather,  unusual  letter 
bobbed  up  every  morning !  A  fresh-cheeked 
young  country  girl  could  not  have  been  more  de 
monstrative.  But  such  is  her  single-mindedness  : 
her  heart  is  young,  and  that  is  no  doubt  one  of 
the  great  causes  of  the  depth  of  her  beauty.  An 
ocean  voyage  generally  washes  out  the  skin-deep 
variety,  but  when  I  saw  Patti  every  day,  rich 
Spanish  beauty  turned  up  with  her  every  time. 
She  was  the  pet  of  the  people  without  seeming  to 
264 


ADELINA  PATTI 

be  conscious  of  it,  and  went  along  through  the 
days  like  other  folks,  speaking  to  friend  after 
friend  in  the  language  of  their  preference,  for  it 
makes  no  difference  to  her — German,  French, 
Spanish,  Italian  or  English;  and  with  all  her 
naivete,  she  is  an  adroit  and  charming  diplomat. 
"  You  must  visit  me,"  she  said  one  day  on  the 
steamer  to  me.  "  I  will  not  take  no  for  an  answer. 
I  will  follow  you  all  over  England  with  telegrams, 
if  you  do  not." 


"  I  will  follow  you  all  over  England  with  telegrams." 


I  went. 

At  Paddington  station  I  found  that  my  hostess 
was  truly  a  royal  one,  for  there  was  the  private 
car  of  His  Royal  Highness,  the  Prince  of  Wales, 
awaiting  her.  The  interior  was  banked  with 
flowers,  from  end  to  end,  and  snatching  up  bunches 
here  and  there,  Patti  would  be  all  in  a  glee  over 
266 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

them.  As  the  train  moved,  three  beautiful  young 
girls  ran  down  the  length  of  the  station  to  get  a 
last  glimpse  of  Patti.  Two  of  them  threw  up 
their  hands,  their  faces  flushed  with  the  race; 
but  the  third  sped  to  the  end  of  the  platform.  It 
was  a  pretty  picture. 

In  our  party  were  Madame  and  Monsieur  Nic- 
olini,  madame's  companion  and  two  maids,  Nic- 
olini's  attendant  and  valet.  I  completed  the 
group,  and  with  reason  was  congratulating  my 
self,  knowing  the  scarcity  and  luxury  of  the  pri 
vate  car  in  England.  As  we  swept  by  Neath,  the 
former  home  of  my  hostess,  then  the  seat  of 
Henry  M.  Stanley,  her  eyes  sparkled,  for  home 
meant  so  much  to  her,  and  she  was  almost  there. 
What  a  lark  there  was  too  on  our  short  run,  with 
Patti  singing  "On  the  Bowery,"  and  snatches 
from  other  "  fad  "  airs,  Nicolini  joining  in,  and 
now  breaking  away  on  his  own  account  into 
"  Annie  Rooney  "  with  the  refrain,  "  Adelina  Patti 
is  my  sweetheart." 

We  were  met  at  the  station  by  a  corps  of  serv 
ants,  a  big  drag,  and  equipages  for  guests,  and 
were  driven  in  handsome  style  around  the  frown 
ing  brow  of  the  great  craig,  into  full  view  of  the 
castle,  spreading  out  its  arms  as  if  in  gladness  at 
the  happy  home-coming  of  its  queen. 

As  we  neared  the  great  gate  all  the  household 
gathered  to  meet  us,  from  the  head  man  Heck, 
266 


ADELINA  PATTI 

to  the  stable  boys.  It  seemed  to  me  that  I  had 
been  assigned  to  the  choice  of  the  eighty  rooms 
of  the  castle,  so  luxurious  were  all  the  appoint 
ments  about  me. 

I  spoke  of  the  pets.  There  were  twenty-five 
or  thirty  varieties  of  birds,  besides  donkeys,  ponies 
and  rare  dogs,  of  which  Patti  is  very  fond,  al 
ways  having  numbers  of  them  accompany  her  in 


"  The  clever  bird  surprised  me  by  ejaculating  Pity  Patti." 

her  walks.  Ten  of  these  birds  were  parrots. 
Each  one  of  these  birds  had  acquired  that  peculiar 
style  of  eloquence  best  suited  to  his  disposition 
and  temperament.  For  example,  one  day  when 
Patti  got  a  trifling  hurt,  the  clever  bird  surprised 
mo  by  ejaculating,  "  Pity  Patti !  "  This  gushing 
267 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

bird  has  ever  since  maintained  a  steady  sympathy, 
spending  most  of  his  verbally  unhappy  life  saying 
"Pity  Patti!  Pity  Patti!"  As  you  go  up  to 
each  parrot,  he  thus,  with  some  different  speech 
unburdens  his  mind  to  you.  They  are  sociable 
birds,  spending  most  of  their  time  together,  and 
when,  now  and  then,  a  sewing-society  notion 
strikes  them  all  at  once,  it  might  be  called  a 
unanimous  change  of  subject. 

From  the  moment  of  arrival,  a  valet  is  put  at 
the  service  of  the  guest,  and  orders  are  taken  by 
him  at  night,  for  the  following  morning's  break 
fast.  There  is  no  rising  time.  While  Patti  is  an 
early  riser,  she  makes  no  such  demands  upon  her 
guests.  The  valet  appears  at  the  hour  ordered, 
prepares  the  bath,  and  serves  breakfast  at  any 
time  desired.  Patti  after  her  regular  morning 
bath,  takes  her  breakfast,  and  reads  her  daily 
mail  before  going  out  for  the  day.  The  guest  is 
absolutely  free  to  do  as  he  wishes  until  half-past 
twelve.  During  my  morning  strolls  I  often  met 
Patti  sauntering  through  the  grounds  with  her 
well-beloved  dogs. 

At  half-past  twelve  all  meet  at  luncheon,  and 
all  must  be  prompt.  At  this  little  dejeneur,  which 
is  by  no  means  a  light  meal,  Patti  is  a  gale  of 
joyous  chat  and  greeting.  The  trivial  incident  is 
touched  into  color  by  her  vitality. 

Then  comes  the  famous  afternoon  drive.  As  a 
268 


ADELINA  PATTI 

rule  the  homes  of  the  neighborhood  ar*e  connected 
by  telephone  with  the  castle,  and  invitations 
come  and  go.  One  afternoon  we  drove  to  a  farm 
house  of  a  neighbor,  where  we  saw  a  contest  be 
tween  three  sheep  dogs.  There  were  three  sheep 
to  each  dog,  and  that  one  was  proclaimed  winner 
who  most  quickly  drove  his  three  sheep  through 
one  opening  into  a  corral.  It  was  an  intensely  in 
teresting  illustration  of  the  instinctive  sheep- 
driving  skill  of  the  dogs.  Then  again  we  would 
go  for  a  long  spin  over  the  hills  through  the  keen 
mountain  air. 

A  light  English  tea  at  five,  after  which  we  had 
until  half-past  seven  to  rest  and  dress  before  ap 
pearing  at  dinner,  the  great  event  of  the  day. 
All,  of  course,  wear  full  dress,  gathering  in  the 
boudoir  where  one  sees  pictures  and  autographs 
of  famous  people  the  world  over.  Among  the 
photographs  I  noticed  those  of  Mrs.  Cleveland, 
Christine  Nilsson,  Nieman,  Albani,  Scalchi,  Hans 
Richter,  Yerdi,  and  the  King  and  Queen  of  Italy. 
A  full  length  portrait  of  Mrs.  Cleveland  appears 
beside  that  of  the  Princess  of  Wales.  The  color 
ing,  hangings,  and  wall  coverings  are  all  suggest 
ive  of  restfulness  in  their  richness. 

The  first  announcement  one  has  of  dinner  is  a 

melody  of  silver  bells.     The  notes  seem  to  cling 

to  the  bells  until  they  are  fairly  shaken  off  like 

bubbles  into  the  air ;  then  there  seem  to  be  two 

269 


THE  SUNltfY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

melodies,  one  the  tender  musical  shadow  of  the 
other. 

Nicolini  would  go  in  front  of  madame,  who 
quickly  took  his  arm  and  they  would  lead  the 
way  into  the  great  conservatory  or  winter  gar 
den,  where  flowers  are  rushing  into  bloom  the 
year  round.  The  fragrant  air  is  musical  with 
singing  birds,  and  the  effect  is  magical  under  the 
effulgence  of  the  electroliers.  The  windows  com 
mand  a  magnificent  view  of  the  country  around, 
mountain  and  valley  and  winding  river,  spread 
just  at  the  feet  of  the  castle ;  salmon  brooks, 
stretches  of  thousands  of  acres,  and  hunting 
grounds  covering  nearly  ten  miles  of  fine  shoot 
ing.  With  her  own  fingers  Patti  puts  a  bouton- 
niere  on  guests  here  and  there,  and  then  we  in 
trust  ourselves  to  the  mercy  of  one  of  Britain's 
greatest  chefs. 

Just  here  I  am  reminded  of  Norris,  the  Irish 
butler,  whose  sense  of  humor  almost  broke  up 
his  self-possession.  At  the  table  while  I  was 
telling  stories  he  would  hold  down  his  upper  lip 
with  his  teeth,  like  the  side  of  a  tent,  afraid  to 
let  it  go,  lest  it  might  be  blown  away  by  a 
breeze  of  laughter.  As  it  was,  the  lip  kept 
wrinkling.  Both  Madame  Patti  and  I  saw  it, 
but  concealed  our  knowledge  from  J^orris,  for 
the  poor  conventional  soul's  heart  would  have 
been  broken,  had  he  suspected  that  we  knew  of 
270 


ADELINA  PATTI 

his  having  lost  the  icy  calm  of  a  properly  con 
ducted  butler.  He  would  "  list "  his  head  over 
to  one  side,  cough,  fly  around  in  unnecessary 
ways,  and  altogether  expend  a  great  deal  of 
energy  in  keeping  down  the  humorous  side  of 
his  nature. 

The  attachment  of  Patti's  servants  to  her  is 
as  constant  as  that  of  her  friends  and  her  pets. 
Norris  had  been  with  her  thirteen  years ;  one 
servant  had  been  with  her  five  years ;  another, 
her  Swedish  valet,  for  nine  years;  then  there 
were  the  driver,  Joe ;  George,  her  courier ;  and 
the  general  manager,  a  man  of  varied  accom 
plishments  and  great  executive  ability,  Guillaume 
Heck. 

Among  all  those  about  her,  none  is  so  close  as 
is  Caroline  Baumeister,  an  Austrian  woman,  her 
companion,  who  has  been  with  her  nearly  forty 
years.  Constantly  at  her  side  with  her  council 
and  care,  Caroline  is  Patti's  friend  in  every  sense 
of  the  word.  Of  excellent  family,  robust  in  mind 
and  body,  of  that  well-balanced,  soothing  and 
serene  temperament  which  has  finally  made  Patti 
a  child  in  her  dependence  upon  it.  Caroline  has 
a  Mexican  girl,  Padro,  as  her  assistant. 

After  dinner  we  pass  into  the  billiard  rooms, 

of  which  there  are  two,  with  French  and  English 

and  American  tables.     At  the  end  of  one  of  these 

rooms  is  a  monster  orchestrion,  which  cost  thirty 

271 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

thousand  dollars,  and  which  furnishes  music  dur 
ing  the  games.  Anything  may  be  played  on  it, 
from  Wagner  to  the  latest  popular  air,  by  simply 
inserting  a  roll.  These  rolls,  by  the  way,  cost 
one  hundred  dollars  each ;  in  truth  golden  music. 

During  these  little  after-dinner  billiard  games 
the  sincerity  and  simplicity  of  Patti  is  seen  to 
great  advantage.  For  instance,  imagine  the  pic 
ture  of  the  great  diva  catching  up  a  billiard  cue, 
and  marching  around  the  room,  followed  by  all 
the  guests,  to  the  tune  of  the  Turkish  March 
played  on  the  orchestrion.  Often  during  the 
course  of  the  evening,  when  she  could  stand  the 
buoyant  effect  of  the  music  no  longer,  she  would 
break  into  song,  trilling  as  naturally  as  a  bird, 
and  as  spontaneously. 

After  a  certain  time  spent  in  the  billiard  rooms, 
we  would  wander  through  a  continuation  of  the 
winter  garden,  into  one  of  the  most  cherished 
possessions  of  Patti,  her  private  theatre.  This 
theatre  was  erected  at  a  great  cost,  and  with  a 
care  for  detail  which  may  be  imagined,  when  it 
is  known  that  Mr.  Irving  sent  down  his  head 
carpenter  from  London,  to  see  that  perfection 
was  reached  at  every  point.  Mr.  Irving  has  said 
several  times  that  it  was  the  most  perfect  thing 
of  its  kind  he  had  ever  seen.  Every  property  is 
complete;  there  are  the  traps,  the  thunder  and 
lightning,  everything  metropolitan,  even  the  floor, 
272 


ADELINA  PATTI 

which  is  adjustable  either  for  inclined  auditorium 
purposes  or  for  the  level  of  a  ball-room  floor. 
There  are  six  dressing-rooms,  and  the  stage,  built 
for  sixty  people,  has  a  "  run "  of  eighty  feet, 
while  the  auditorium  will  accommodate  three 
hundred  and  fifty  and  the  gallery  eighty  people. 
During  the  little  evenings,  the  gallery  is  gen 
erally  filled  by  domestics  and  peasants.  Pro 
grammes  are  prepared  with  elegance  for  each 
entertainment.  I  have  one  now — the  operatic 
matinee  in  honor  of  His  Koyal  Highness,  Prince 
Henry  of  Battenberg,  and  party : 

Overture  "Martha,"  orchestra.  Yocal  concert 
(artists,  Madame  Adelina  Patti-Nicolini,  Madame 
Giulia  Valda,  Signer  Yovara),  "  Faust "  Act  III, 
Garden  Scene,  in  which  Signer  Nicolini,  as  Faust, 
took  part.  The  conductor  was  Signor  Arditi. 
The  programme  is  richly  embellished  in  purple 
and  scarlet  and  gold. 

One  of  the  ornaments  on  the  walls  of  this 
beautiful  little  theatre  is  the  armor  worn  by 
Patti  in  her  creation,  at  the  age  of  nineteen,  of 
the  character  of  Joan  of  Arc.  She  also  appears 
in  a  splendid  painting  on  the  curtain,  as  "  Semir- 
amis  "  in  her  triumphal  car. 

During  my  stay  the  idea  struck  Patti  of  hav 
ing  a  little  entertainment  in  my  honor.  So 
George,  the  courier,  was  posted  off  to  Swansea 
to  get  an  orchestra,  and  other  parts  of  the  equip- 
273 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STREET 

raent  needed  for  this  hasty-pudding  matinee,  for 
there  was  only  one  day  in  which  to  get  ready. 

It  took  place  June  15th,  1892.  The  pro 
gramme  was  filled  by  Patti  and  four  or  five 
friends,  including  myself  in  the  humorous  num 
ber.  Patti's  voice  can  never  be  heard  to  such 
advantage  as  under  the  shadow  of  her  mountains 
in  this  peaceful  valley ;  here  she  sings  from  very 
gladness  because  she  is  free.  She  is  out  of  the 
cage  (for  Patti  is  never  so  caged  as  when  before 
the  public)  in  her  own  home  where  song  is  not  an 
article  of  merchandise,  but  the  gratuitous  offer 
ing  of  nature.  So  it  is  that  her  trills  are  more 
brilliant  and  spontaneous  than  the  same  flights 
for  which  she  receives  five  thousand  dollars  a 
night. 

Every  Christmas  a  thousand  children  are  en 
tertained,  and  a  charity  concert  is  given,  when 
presents  are  distributed  by  her  to  the  poor  of 
Swansea  and  Neath  districts,  being  handed  out 
by  her  personally. 

Her  good  offices  to  the  poor  are  done  in  num 
berless  ways,  the  greater  part  unknown.  I  heard 
during  my  visit  this  story  :  there  was  a  poor  child 
born  just  inside  the  big  gate  one  evening.  The 
quivering  peasant  mother,  homeless  and  alone, 
turned  instinctively  in  her  agony  to  the  good 
mistress  of  the  valley,  and  had  crawled  within 
the  friendly  shelter  of  the  lady's  wall.  Patti, 
274 


ADELINA  PATTI 

returning  from  a  drive  found  them  and  took 
them  to  her  home  and  had  them  cared  for.  She 
named  the  little  tot  Craig-y-Nos.  When  all  was 
well,  the  woman  offered  to  work  out  the  debt, 
but  "  No,"  said  her  hostess,  "  you  are  my  guests." 

There  is  a  standing  rule  that  no  poor  shall  be 
turned  away  from  the  castle.  Each  one,  no  mat 
ter  how  deserving,  is  given  bread  and  beer,  and 
they  come  in  continually  from  miles  around. 

"Lady  of  the  Castle,"  she  is  affectionately 
called  by  the  plain  folk  of  that  country.  Can 
one  wonder  then  that  when  she  drives  out  all 
greet  her  with  grateful  deference,  and  the  little 
children  curtsey  as  if  to  a  queen.  Whenever  I 
drove  out  with  her  I  saw  the  same  demonstration. 

Patti  has  a  retinue  of  sixty  domestics  while 
she  is  at  home,  and  leaves  twenty-five  to  look 
after  things  when  she  is  away.  There  is  a  com 
plete  electric  plant  with  a  power-house  so  far 
away  as  to  avoid  the  noise  of  the  machinery ; 
also  a  gas  plant,  if  this  light  is  preferred  ;  a  tele 
phone  and  telegraph  service  connect  the  castle 
with  the  outside  world.  Let  me  not  forget  the 
dairy,  the  steam  laundry,  and  the  refrigerating 
facilities  for  the  meats.  The  stables  are  elegantly 
constructed  and  equipped,  there  being  seven 
pairs  of  carriage  horses  beside  the  riding  horses, 
ponies  and  donkeys. 

One  of  the  ponies  had  been  pensioned  after 
275 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

long  and  faithful  service,  and  spent  most  of  his 
time  browsing  in  the  paddock  with  Jenny,  the 
little  pet  donkey  of  the  place.  The  two  were 
uncommonly  knowing  and  the  fastest  of  friends, 
one  running  in  front  of  a  person  trying  to  catch 
the  other.  This  manoeuvre  they  could  success 
fully  carry  out,  until  the  one  trying  to  catch 
either  of  them  would  retire  in  disgust,  to  the 
great  satisfaction  of  Tom  and  Jenny,  who  would 
peacefully  resume  their  t6te-a-t£te  meal. 

With  all  the  paraphernalia  of  comfort  and  con 
venience,  it  remains  only  for  the  personality  of 
Patti  to  convert  the  castle  into  home.  What  a 
hostess !  During  my  stay  everything  seemed  to 
be  done  with  special  reference  to  me.  Even  the 
American  flag  was  hoisted  on  the  castle  in  honor 
of  my  nationality.  Thus  special  guests  are  al 
ways  flatteringly  recognized  by  the  sight  of  their 
own  country's  flag.  The  individual  tastes  of  the 
guests  are  studied  to  the  minutest  degree  by  all. 
For  instance,  I  have  always  been  very  fond  of 
ice.  Imagine  this  trifling  taste  of  mine  being 
detected  without  my  knowledge.  I  found  out 
that  it  had  been  in  this  way.  When  I  left  I 
found  my  lunch  providently  and  daintily  put  up, 
and  among  the  delicacies  I  discovered  a  piece  of 
ice  !  It  had  been  frozen  into  a  small  block  spe 
cially  for  me,  and  I  enjoyed  it  very  much,  all  the 
trip. 

276 


ADELINA  PATTI 

Then  again,  I  had  expressed  an  interest  in  her 
jewels,  so  during  my  stay  she  decked  herself 
every  night  with  different  ones,  all  in  my  honor, 
as  she  assured  me. 

Do  what  she  will,  this  woman,  worshiped  of 
all  nations,  is  the  willing  slave  of  a  loving  heart. 
Her  old  parents,  whom  she  loved  and  revered 
when  they  were  living,  she  loves  and  honors  now 
that  they  are  dead,  and  not  a  day  passes,  without 
some  fond  reference  to  them. 

A  friend  of  Patti's,  a  French  lady,  met  with 
distressing  financial  losses.  In  her  need  Patti 
said  to  her,  "  Come  and  live  with  me  !  "  and  she 
did,  for  many  happy  years  after  that. 

When  Joe  was  driving  me  to  Penwyllt  I 
thought  of  it  all  as  the  road  lengthened  between 
me  and  my  friends.  I  remembered  that  Patti 
had  told  me  that  of  all  American  cities,  Rich 
mond  and  Syracuse  were  her  favorites,  but  I  feel 
sure  she  is  the  favorite  of  all  our  cities. 

The  world  has  been  made  glad  by  her  song, 
but  not  more  glad  than  the  mountain  district  by 
her  presence.  There  she  lives  a  queen,  crowned 
by  the  love  of  all  about  her. 


277 


XXI 

SOME  NOTABLE  PEOPLE 

Cornelius  Vanderbilt. — Mrs.  Mackey. — The  Rockefellers. — Jay 
Gould. — George  Gould  and  Mrs.  Edith  Kingdom  Gould. — 
Mary  Anderson. — Mrs.  Minnie  Maddern  Fiske. — Augustin 
Daly. — Nicola  Tesla. — Cheiro. 

THE  mass  of  the  people  envy  most  the 
men  and  women  who  have  most  money ; 
my  own  envy  goes  out  hungrily  to 
those  who  are  happiest,  though  I  have  sometimes 
inclined  strongly  toward  the  majority.  One  day 
in  London,  while  my  mind  was  full  of  the  good 
that  a  great  lot  of  money  would  do  me,  I  learned 
that  Mr.  Cornelius  Vanderbilt,  who  was  still  suf 
fering  from  the  effects  of  a  paralytic  stroke,  was 
at  a  hotel  in  Piccadilly.  Besides  being  one  of  the 
best  men  in  the  world,  he  had  been  one  of  my 
best  friends,  so  I  called  on  him,  hoping  I  might 
cheer  his  heart  in  some  way  and  make  him  forget 
his  trouble.  It  was  hard  to  get  at  him,  for  his 
secretary  had  been  ordered  by  the  physician  to 
admit  no  one,  but  I  got  my  card  to  him,  and  he 
was  kind  enough  to  express  a  wish  to  see  me  and 
a  belief  that  my  visit  would  do  him  good. 

From  Mr.  Yanderbilt's  hotel  I  went  to  the 
278 


SOME  NOTABLE  PEOPLE 

home  of  Mrs.  John  A.  Mackey,  whose  son  Willie 
had  recently  lost  his  life  by  being  thrown  from 
his  horse.  I  had  no  desire  to  intrude  upon  grief, 
but  Willie  and  I  had  been  merry  friends  together, 
and  I  believed  remembrance  of  our  acquaintance 
would  make  Mrs.  Mackey  willing  to  see  me. 
Here  again  I  had  great  difficulty ;  the  butler  had 
received  positive  order,  and  it  took  me  twenty 
minutes  to  persuade  him  that  Mrs.  Mackey  would 
not  refuse  to  receive  my  card.  I  was  right,  for 
she  was  very  glad  to  see  me.  Her  house  was  a 
veritable  palace,  containing  everything  valuable 
and  artistic  that  money  would  buy,  yet  amid  all 
these  evidences  of  wealth  the  bereaved  mother 
sat  in  deep  black,  mourning  the  loss  of  her  be 
loved  son  and,  like  Rachel,  "  would  not  be  com 
forted."  So  my  visits  to  these  two  good  friends 
convinced  me  that  money  could  not  do  every 
thing. 

Probably  the  most  envied  man  in  America  is 
John  D.  Rockefeller,  for  his  income  alone  is  be 
lieved  to  exceed  half  a  million  dollars  a  day. 
There  are  many  men  and  women  near  Owego, 
N".  Y.,  who  attended  school  with  John  Rock 
efeller,  in  the  little  schoolhouse  on  the  old  river 
road.  They  did  not  regard  him  as  a  prospective 
millionaire:  he  was  merely  "one  of  the  Rock 
efeller  boys,"  yet  they  knew  him  from  the  first 
as  the  leader  of  boys  of  his  age.  He  was  the 
279 


THE  SUNSTY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

first  to  suggest  a  game  of  sport,  and  those  who 
remember  him  best  assert  that  unless  John  had 
his  own  way  he  would  not  play.  He  did  not  fly 
into  a  rage  when  opposed  and  overruled,  but  he 
would  watch  the  play  without  taking  part  in  it. 
And  such  has  been  his  business  policy ;  it  is  a 
matter  of  record  that  he  has  embarked  in  no 
business  ventures  not  of  his  own  suggestion,  nor 
in  any  of  which  he  had  not  full  control. 

Like  another  great  financier,  Jay  Gould,  his 
personality  dominated  every  undertaking  in 
which  he  was  interested  ;  neither  he  nor  Gould 
allowed  any  one  to  think  for  them.  Both  men 
were  alike  in  another  respect;  they  brought  up 
their  sons  in  the  same  self-reliant  manner,  instead 
of  allowing  them  to  drop  into  luxury  and  self-in 
dulgence,  after  the  manner  of  most  millionaires' 
sons. 

Young  Mr.  Rockefeller  is  a  man  of  simple  and 
regular  habits,  but  not  at  all  afraid  to  enter  the 
field  of  labor  in  competition  with  great  brain- 
workers.  He  is  a  creditable  exponent  of  his 
father's  business  creed. 

Jay  Gould  once  wrote  as  follows,  in  a  letter  to 
a  personal  friend : 

"  Man  seems  to  be  so  constituted  that  he  can 
not  comprehend  his  own  situation.  To-day  he 
lends  his  ear  to  the  charming  words  of  the 
deceiver  and  is  led  to  believe  himself  a  god ;  to- 
280 


SOME  NOTABLE  PEOPLE 

morrow  he  is  hissed  and  laughed  at  for  some 
fancied  fault,  and,  rejected  and  broken-hearted, 
he  retires  to  his  chamber  to  spend  a  night  in 
tears.  These  are  certainly  unwarranted  posi 
tions:  the  first  to  ingratiate  himself  or  obtain 
your  notice,  and  therefore  his  delusion  of  great 
ness  is  unwarranted,  while  the  latter  is  the  voice 


"  Luxury  and  self-indulgence  after  the  manner  of  most 
millionaire  sons." 

of  the  envious — those  who  look  with  a  war-like 
spirit  upon  the  tide  of  your  prosperity,  since  they 
deem  themselves  equally  meritorious.  And  this 
last  assumption,  over  which  you  have  shed  your 
tears,  is  the  true  voice  of  your  praise  ! " 

Only  the  man  who  had  thus  accurately  gauged 
the  world's  estimate  of  wealthy  men  could  have 
been    the  example  and  inspiration  of   George 
281 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

Gould,  upon  whose  shoulders  was  laid  a  burden 
of  almost  incalculable  weight,  which  he  has  borne 
successfully  and  without  making  a  public  show  of 
himself  and  his  millions.  He  is  a  genuine  man, 
and  has  a  worthy  companion  in  his  wife,  who  as 
a  bride  went  from  the  stage  to  the  home  of  one 
of  the  wealthiest  young  men  in  the  land,  yet 
whose  admirable  womanhood  has  never  been 
marred  by  consciousness  of  great  riches.  She 
has  never  forgotten  her  old  professional  associates 
whom  she  liked,  nor,  indeed,  any  mere  acquaint 
ance.  Not  long  ago  she  happened  to  see  me  in 
the  studio  of  Marceau,  the  photographer.  Leav 
ing  some  friends  with  whom  she  had  been  con 
versing  she  came  over  to  me,  greeted  me  cordially, 
and  congratulated  me  heartily  on  my  marriage, 
yet  with  the  unstudied  simplicity  and  directness 
for  which  she  is  noted. 

Early  in  life  I  became  an  autograph  hunter 
and  an  admirer  of  stage  deities  of  both  sexes,  and 
one  of  the  first  autographs  I  ever  got  was  that  of 
Mary  Anderson,  who  gave  it  very  graciously. 
Since  then  she  has  favored  me  with  others,  but 
that  first  one  is  among  my  dearest  treasures. 
The  American  people  were  in  accord  with  me  in 
admiration  of  Miss  Anderson.  She  was  lovingly 
referred  to  as  "  Our  Mary "  and  her  success  in 
this  country  was  regarded  as  a  guarantee  of  an 
enthusiastic  reception  abroad. 
282 


SOME  NOTABLE  PEOPLE 

But  the  English  public  is  hard  to  approach ;  to 
please  on  this  side  of  the  water  is  not  an  assur 
ance  of  success  over  there,  and  Miss  Anderson's 
appearance  did  not  make  an  exception  to  the  rule. 
For  sometimes  she  had  poor  audiences  at  the 
Lyceum  (London).  Efforts  were  made  to  have 
the  Prince  of  Wales  attend  a  performance,  but  for 
a  time  they  were  unsuccessful.  One  night  he  en 
tered  the  theatre  and  was  so  much  pleased  that 
after  the  first  act  he  sent  word  to  the  stage  that 
he  wished  to  see  Miss  Anderson.  The  lady's 
mother,  Mrs.  Griffen,  who  received  his  message, 
requested  that  he  would  defer  the  meeting  until 
the  end  of  the  play,  as  she  feared  the  honor  might 
"  upset "  her  daughter  and  mar  the  performance. 
The  Prince  replied :  "  Certainly,"  like  the  con 
siderate  gentleman  he  always  is. 

Meanwhile  Michael  Gunn,  the  manager  of  the 
theatre,  with  characteristic  managerial  shrewd 
ness,  saw  a  great  chance  for  advertising,  so  he 
rushed  off  by  a  cable  to  America  a  message^which 
read: 

"  Mary  Anderson  refuses  to  see  the  Prince  of 
Wales  without  the  Princess." 

The  difference  in  time — five  hours,  between  the 
two  countries  gave  him  the  advantage  he  wanted. 
The  New  York  papers  got  it  barely  in  time  for 
their  last  editions.  Next  day  they  cabled  Lon 
don  papers  for  particulars,  but  the  day  of  a  great 
283 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

American  morning  paper  does  not  begin  until 
noon  or  later,  by  which  time,  say  6  P.  M.  on  the 
other  side  of  the  Atlantic,  all  London  is  at  dinner 
or  getting  ready  for  it  and  must  not  be  disturbed. 
Besides,  the  English  papers  do  not  exhibit  Amer 
ican  taste  and  enterprise  in  nosing  out  news.  So 
they  published  the  story  as  a  fact,  and  without 
comment.  It  was  too  small  a  matter  for  either 
of  the  parties  to  formally  deny  in  print,  but  it 
was  large  enough  to  make  no  end  of  talk  and  of 
interest  in  the  American  actress.  From  that  bit 
of  advertising  shrewdness — some  Englishmen 
gave  it  a  ruder  name,  dated  Miss  Anderson's 
success  in  London. 

Mention  of  Miss  Anderson  recalls  a  reception 
in  her  honor  which  I  attended,  at  the  home  of 
Mrs.  Croly  ("  Jennie  June  ").  Among  the  guests 
was  a  young  actress  who  was  just  coming  into 
notice — Miss  Minnie  Maddern,  now  Mrs.  Fiske. 
Her  beautiful,  expressive  eyes  folio  wed*  the  guest 
of  honor  so  wistfully  that  I  said : 

"I  see  you  are  observing  Miss  Anderson  in 
tently." 

"  Yes,"  she  replied.  "  What  a  beautiful  woman 
she  is !  And  what  an  actress  !  What  wouldn't 
I  give  to  be  able  to  act  as  she  can ! " 

Such  modesty  has  its  reward.  Mrs.  Fiske  has 
not  only  reached  the  plane  of  Mary  Anderson's 
ability,  but  has  gone  far  above  it,  and  stands 
284 


SOME  NOTABLE  PEOPLE 

to-day  upon  a  pinnacle  of  art  that  no  other  Amer 
ican  actress  has  ever  climbed.  One  night,  at  a 
performance  of  "Hedda  Gabler,"  I  asked  my 
friend  Charles  Kent,  whose  high  rank  as  an  actor 
is  admitted  by  every  one,  if  Mrs.  Fiske  was  not 
our  greatest  actress.  He  replied  : 

"  Mrs.  Fiske  is  more  than  our  greatest  actress 
She  is  the  greatest  personality  in  the  profession. 
She  is  the  Henry  Irving  of  America." 

One  of  the  greatest  losses  the  American  stage 
ever  sustained  was  through  the  death  of  Augustin 
Daly.  I  have  heard  some  of  his  most  determined 
rivals  call  him  the  greatest  stage  manager  in 
America,  and  since  his  death  they  have  expressed 
doubt  that  his  equal  would  ever  appear.  I  was 
his  neighbor  for  quite  a  while ;  I  saw  him  often 
and  chatted  much  with  him,  but  I  never  knew  a 
man  less  given  to  "  talking  shop."  Apparently  he 
had  no  thought  for  anything  but  his  two  sons, 
both  of  whom  were  then  living,  and  on  Sunday 
mornings  it  was  a  great  pleasure  to  me  to  see  him 
walking  with  his  boys  to  the  Catholic  Church,  of 
which  he  was  a  devout  member.  But  he  lost  both 
sons  in  a  single  week,  one  dying,  broken-hearted, 
after  the  death  of  the  other.  The  double  loss 
was  one  from  which  Mr.  Daly  never  recovered, 
though  he  sought  relief  in  hard  work.  I  often 
met  him  after  midnight  on  the  old  green  car  that 
passed  through  Thirty-fourth  Street,  yet  next 
286 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

morning  saw  him  leave  the  house  as  early  as 
eight  o'clock.  Busy  though  he  was,  he  never  for 
got  his  friends ;  he  was  so  kind  as  to  keep  them 
under  continual  obligations.  I  recall  a  compli 
mentary  dinner  which  Major  Handy  wished  to 
give  Mr.  Daly,  but  when  he  approached  the 
prospective  guest,  Daly  said  : 

"  Oh,  you  invite  your  friends,  and  I'll  give  the 
dinner." 

New  York  managers  are  seldom  visible  in  the 
front  of  the  house  during  a  performance,  but  Mr. 
Daly's  eyes  seemed  to  be  there  as  well  as  on  the 
stage.  At  the  hundredth  performance  of  "  The 
Taming  of  the  Shrew  "  the  house  was  packed ; 
after  endeavoring  in  vain  to  buy  a  seat  I  stood 
at  the  railing,  where  Mr.  Daly  saw  me  and  said : 

"Come  with  me,  Marsh." 

We  went  up-stairs  to  the  balcony  where  he  got 
a  camp-stool  from  somewhere  and  placed  it  for 
me  in  the  middle  aisle,  whispering  me  at  the  same 
time  to  fold  it  at  the  end  of  the  performance  and 
bring  it  down  to  him,  as  he  was  breaking  one  of 
the  ordinances  regarding  fires  in  theatres  by 
allowing  me  to  sit  in  the  aisle. 

.Dr.  Nicola  Tesla,  the  great  electrician,  is  an 
oft-seen  figure,  yet  his  retiring  disposition  and 
his  distaste  for  society  make  him  personally  un 
known.  Any  one  who  has  visited  the  Waldorf 
in  the  evening  must  have  seen  this  interesting 
286 


SOME  NOTABLE  PEOPLE 

man  sitting  alone  at  a  table  in  a  corner  of  the 
winter  garden,  for  there  he  is,  night  after  night, 
after  his  solitary  dinner,  wrapped  in  his  thoughts. 
He  has  told  me  that  here,  in  an  atmosphere  of 
bustle  and  chatter,  he  can  think  better  than  any 
where  else  :  he  is  oblivious  to  the  people  who  stare 
curiously  at  him,  for  his  mind  is  absorbed  in  the 
details  of  some  wonderful  invention.  He  lives  at 
the  Waldorf ;  once  he  thought  of  leaving,  so  he 
packed  his  trunks.  His  departure  was  postponed 
from  day  to  day,  so  his  trunks  remained  un 
opened  :  rather  than  unpack  them  he  purchased 
new  things  from  time  to  time  according  to  his 
necessities.  Finally  he  decided  to  remain  at  the 
Waldorf,  but  for  all  I  know  to  the  contrary  the 
trunks  still  remain  unpacked. 

I  have  the  honor  of  being  numbered  among 
Dr.  Tesla's  friends,  so  I  have  often  stopped  at  his 
table  for  a  chat,  but  never  without  his  invita 
tion.  Most  sensitive  natures  are  so  self-absorbed 
as  to  be  utterly  selfish,  but  Dr.  Tesla,  although 
sensitive  in  the  extreme,  is  always  considerate  of 
the  feelings  of  others.  I  know  of  many  occa 
sions  on  which  he  displayed  this  rare  quality,  and 
I  may  be  pardoned  for  mentioning  one  which 
concerned  myself.  I  sent  Dr.  Tesla  a  copy  of  my 
book  "  People  I've  Smiled  With  "  and  received  a 
polite  acknowledgment,  which  was  followed  al 
most  immediately  by  a  long  letter,  as  if  he  feared 
287 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

I  had  been  hurt  by  the  shortness  of  the  earlier 
communication. 

Several  of  my  friends  were  at  the  Victoria 
Hotel  in  London  while  I  was  also  stopping  there, 
and  among  them  was  Miss  Loie  Fuller,  who  usu 
ally  held  an  informal  reception  after  theatre 
hours — the  Thespian's  only  "  recess."  One  even 
ing,  on  returning  from  an  entertainment  I  had 


"  He  was  reading  a  lady's  palm." 

given,  I  went  into  Miss  Fuller's  parlor  and  found 
the  hostess  and  her  friends  clustered  about  a  gen 
tleman  whom  I  did  not  know.  He  had  dark  hair 
and  eyes  and  was  extremely  good  looking — a 
perfect  type  of  Irish  manhood.  He  was  reading 
a  lady's  palm,  and  the  others  were  listening  with 
great  interest.  Soon  Miss  Fuller  said  : 
288 


SOME  NOTABLE  PEOPLE 

"  I  want  you  to  read  Marshall's  palm." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  the  others ;  "  let's  hear  what 
Marshall's  luck  will  be." 

"We  were  introduced ;  his  name  was  Louis 
Warner,  and  on  looking  at  iny  hand  he  began  to 
tell  my  characteristics  with  an  accuracy  which 
was  startling.  I  had  no  opportunity  for  conver 
sation  with  him  that  evening,  so  I  invited  him  to 
lunch  with  me  the  next  day.  He  came  and  we 
had  a  very  interesting  chat  about  palmistry.  I 
asked  him  if  he  made  a  business  of  it  and  he  said 
he  did  not — he  was  an  actor,  and  playing  at  the 
Princess  Theatre. 

"  Do  you  ever  think  of  taking  up  palmistry  as 
a  business  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  No,"  he  answered,  "  but  I  may  some  day." 

I  told  him  I  thought  there  was  a  great  deal  of 
money  in  it,  to  which  he  assented.  During  the 
conversation  he  kept  calling  me  Mr.  Marshall ; 
when  I  corrected  his  mistake  and  told  him  what 
my  name  was,  he  was  much  surprised,  and  asked 
my  pardon  for  making  the  mistake.  I  told  him 
I  was  glad  he  had,  for  it  showed  me  more  clearly 
the  truth  of  his  palmistry. 

"  Of  course  I  know  you  by  reputation,"  he 
said.  "  You  did  a  great  deal  for  Heron-Allen  in 
America,  helping  him  to  get  acquainted  there." 

"  Yes,"  I  replied,  "  and  if  you  ever  come  over 
there  I'll  do  what  I  can  to  introduce  you." 
289 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

A  year  later  I  was  walking  through  the  corri 
dor  of  the  Imperial  Hotel  (New  York)  when  I 
was  stopped  by  a  gentleman,  who  said : 

"You  don't  remember  me,  do  you,  Mr. 
Wilder?" 

"  Yes,"  I  answered,  "  you  are  Louis  Warner  of 
London."  He  laughed  and  said  : 

"  You  have  a  very  good  memory,  Mr.  Wilder, 
but  I  have  taken  another  name.  I  wish  to  be 
known  as  Cheiro.  I  have  chosen  that  name  as  it 
is  the  Greek  word  for  *  hand,'  and  while  appro 
priate  it  is  also  an  attractive  one  for  professional 
work.  You  see,  I  have  followed  your  advice,  and 
taken  up  palmistry  as  a  business." 

I  introduced  him  to  a  great  many  of  my 
friends,  and  he  was  most  successful  in  reading 
their  palms  correctly.  A  little  later,  a  lady 
called  upon  me,  asking  me  to  give  her  topics  for 
newspaper  work.  I  gave  her  some  letters  to 
friends  of  mine, — well  known  men,  asking  them 
to  let  her  take  an  impression  of  their  hands. 
She  visited,  among  others,  Mr.  Kussell  Sage,  Mr. 
Chauncey  Depew  and  Sir  Henry  Irving,  who  was 
in  town,  taking  impressions  of  their  hands  on 
paper  with  printer's  ink.  She  also  entered  the 
Tombs  and  obtained  the  impression  of  the  hand 
of  a  notorious  forger.  These  she  took  to  Cheiro, 
and  without  knowing  whose  hands  they  were  he 
read  each  and  every  one  correctly.  Among  them 
290 


SOME  NOTABLE  PEOPLE 

was  an  impression  of  ray  own  hand.  He  picked 
it  up,  and  said  immediately : 

"This  is  the  hand  of  my  friend,  Marshall 
Wilder."  To  my  mind,  this  was  the  greatest  test 
of  his  powers. 

The  story  was  written  up,  readily  sold  to  a 
newspaper,  and  was  copied  many  times,  widely 
read  and  commented  upon.  Since  then  Cheiro's 
work  has  become  known  all  over  the  world. 


291 


XXII 

HUMAN  NATURE 

Magnetism  and  Its  Elements.— Every  one  Carries  the  Marks  of 
His  Trade. — How  Men  are  "Sized  Up  "  at  Hotels. — Facial 
Besemblance  of  Some  People  to  Animals. — What  the  Eye 
First  Catches. — When  Faces  are  Masked. — Bathing  in 
Japan. — The  Conventions  in  Every-Day  Life  that  Hide 
Us  from  Our  Fellows. — Genuineness  is  the  One  Thing 
Needful. 

THE  oftener  a  man — any  man,  from  the 
beginner  at  vaudeville  to  the  great  actor 
or  orator — appears  before  audiences,  the 
more  he  is  impressed  by  the  many  varieties  of 
human  nature  and  the  many  ways  there  are  of 
comprehending  it. 

A  few  people  who  have  to  meet  large  numbers 
of  their  fellow-beings  have  no  trouble  on  this 
score,  for  they  possess  something  that  for  lack  of 
a  better  name  is  called  magnetism.  Some  actors 
who  are  full  of  faults  succeed  by  means  of  this 
quality ;  twenty  times  as  many  who  are  more  in 
telligent  and  thorough  fail  through  lack  of  it. 
The  same  may  be  said  of  Congressmen,  lawyers, 
preachers  and  presidents.  Magnetism  seems  to 
be  a  combination  of  sensitiveness,  affection,  im- 
292 


HUMAN  NATURE 

pulse  and  passion,  so  it  is  not  strange  that  only  a 
few  people  of  any  profession  possess  it. 

For  instance,  go  into  Weber  &  Fields  when 
both  Lillian  Kussell  and  Fay  Templeton  are  on 
the  bill.  The  former  delights  the  eye  and  ear, 
for  she  is  beautiful  with  a  charming  voice.  Yet 
Miss  Templeton  gets  beyond  the  eye  and  ear  to 
the  heart ;  she  takes  possession  of  the  company 
as  well  as  of  the  audience ;  even  the  "  chorus  " — 
and  the  chorus  is  noted  for  paying  no  attention 
to  anything  or  anybody  but  itself  and  its  per 
sonal  friends — loves  Fay  Templeton  and  mani 
fests  close  interest  in  her  work. 

But  one  need  not  be  on  the  stage  to  study  hu 
man  nature.  Wherever  there  is  a  successful  busi 
ness  organization,  there  you  will  find  close  ob 
servers  of  human  nature.  Go  into  a  great  hotel 
— the  Astoria  for  instance — and  even  the  bell 
boys  are  adepts  to  it.  Walk  down  the  lobby, 
supposing  yourself  unobserved,  and  you  are 
"  sized  up  "  at  once.  If  you  are  a  reporter,  the 
whole  house  from  the  bell-boys  to  the  head  clerk 
know  that  you  are  not  of  a  class  that  can  be 
"  pigeon-holed."  The  Southern  man,  with  his 
family  on  a  pleasure  jaunt,  is  accurately  "tabbed" 
at  once.  So  is  the  public  man — not  always  by 
his  clothes,  but  by  his  manner.  The  "drummer" 
signifies  his  business  by  a  side-to-side  movement, 
something  like  a  wheat-hopper  in  an  elevator. 
293 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

The  prominent  man  betrays  himself  by  using  his 
legs  as  if  they  were  intended  solely  to  hold  up  his 
body,  which,  no  matter  how  well  off  he  may  be, 
is  almost  sure  to  have  an  empty  button-hole  some 
where.  The  needy  man  is  likely  to  be  carefully 
clad,  but  his  trousers  are  out  of  season,  a  trifle 
short  and  pieced  out  with  gaiters.  The  hotel 


"  The  needy  man  ia  likely  to  be  carefully  clad." 

clerk  takes  in  all  these  signs  at  a  glance,  and  gives 
answers  and  rooms  accordingly. 

I  believe  many  men  size  up  people  by  resem 
blances  to  animals ;  I  know  I  do,  and  with  uni 
form  success — when  I  select  the  right  animal ;  so 
my  mind  contains  a  menagerie  of  acquaintances 
and  a  few  strangers  not  yet  identified.  It  is 
294 


HUMAN  NATUBE 

almost  impossible  to  see  a  man  with  a  fox-face 
without  finding  him  foxy.  Then  there  are 
monkey  faces,  with  eyes  close  together  and 
shifty — eyes  that  seem  to  look  into  each  other. 
Beware  of  them !  I  have  heard  good  housekeep 
ers  say  that  they  prefer  servants  with  eyes  wide 
apart,  for  the  other  kind  have  invariably  been 
connected  with  missing  silver  and  other  port 
able  property.  Nearly  every  criminal  whose 
portrait  appears  in  the  "Kogues'  Gallery  "  has 
monkey  eyes ;  the  criminal  class  is  recruited  from 
this  type. 

The  bulldog  face  may  be  seen  every  day  among 
the  never-give-up  men  in  every  business.  The 
late  William  M.  Evarts'  face  suggested  the  eagle, 
and  he  made  some  great  fights  side  by  side  with 
our  national  bird.  What  is  the  matter  with 
Joseph  H.  Choate  as  the  owl,  the  late  Kecorder 
Smyth  as  the  hawk,  Dr.  Parkhurst  as  the  wary 
tabby  on  watch  for  the  mouse  ?  We  have  some 
orators  who  look  like  pug-dogs;  preachers  who 
resemble  fashionably  sheared  poodles,  and  I 
know  one  unmistakable  Dachshund  of  the  pulpit. 
Strong  combinations  are  occasionally  seen  ;  Eoger 
A.  Pryor  suggests  a  clean-cut  greyhound  with 
the  face  of  a  mastiff.  Other  men  resemble  great 
hearted  St.  Bernards,  with  intelligent  eyes  and  a 
reserve  force  that  is  never  squandered  on  trifles 
or  bickerings.  Daily,  one  may  see  a  man  in  a  car- 
295 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STREET 

riage  with  his  dog,  and  the  two  look  so  alike  that 
you  hesitate  to  say  which  dog  is  driving. 

The  first  thing  apt  to  be  noticed  about  a  man 
is  his  hat ;  then  his  shoes,  collar  and  clothes  in 
the  order  named ;  the  face  is  generally  left  to  the 
last,  though  it  should  be  the  first.  Nothing  is  so 


"  You  hesitate  to  say  which  dog  is  driving." 

significant  to  me  as  the  eye,  especially  if  it  won't 
look  straight  at  me.  Some  men  of  great  mental 
vitality  carry  so  much  strength  focalized  in  the 
eye  that  they  absolutely  absorb.  After  an  ear 
nest  conversation  with  such  a  person  one  feels  as 
if  he  had  done  a  day's  work. 
296 


HTJMAH  HATUKE 

Men  often  suggest  their  business  occupations 
by  their  walk.  A  dentist  displays  the  gait  and 
bearing  he  has  when  he  is  coming  to  the  side  of 
your  chair  to  draw  a  tooth.  A  printer  carries 
his  arm  forward,  as  if  feeling  for  the  "  case." 
The  preacher  you  can  almost  hear  saying  "  Now 
we  will  hear  from  Brother  Hawkins."  The  roles 
of  stage  people  stick  to  them  on  the  outside ;  the 
tragedian  I  rarely  mistake ;  the  "  leading  man  " 
can't  get  rid  of  his  descriptive  look.  The  villain 
and  the  comedian  you  will  know  apart,  although, 
strange  to  say,  their  real  characters  are  generally 
diametrically  opposite  to  the  parts  they  play. 

Faces  are  like  looking-glasses ;  they  generally 
reflect  the  treatment  they  receive.  Driving  in 
the  park,  the  wealthy  lady  wants  Mrs.  Jones  to 
know  she  is  on  deck — footman,  mountings,  dog- 
chairs  and  all.  You  can  tell  her  by  the  "Oh- 
have-I-to-go-through-with-this-again  ? "  sort  of 
look.  The  young  Wall  Street  plunger's  face 
says,  "You  thought  I  wouldn't  be  here,  eh? 
well,  here  I  am."  One  man's  face  tells  you  he 
is  driving  with  his  sweetheart ;  the  simple  soft 
quietude  of  one  woman's  face  tells  you  that  she 
is  beyond  all  else  a  mother. 

As  a  rule,  however, — and  more's  the  pit}7 — a 
man's  real  nature  is  obscured  when  he  is  in  pur 
suit  of  gain — absorbed  in  business,  of  any  kind. 
You  would  no  more  know  him  then,  than  you 
297 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STREET 

would  your  own  house-cat  when  the  Mr.  Hyde 
side  of  his  nature  crops  out  on  your  garden  fence 
late  at  night.  Two  boys  were  selling  newspapers 
on  a  car;  the  larger  in  his  eagerness  for  busi 
ness,  pushed  the  other  off.  The  little  fellow  fell, 
dropped  and  scattered  his  papers  and  began  to 
cry.  Instantly  the  big  boy  was  a  different  being ; 
he  lost  all  thought  of  business,  hurried  to  his 
disabled  rival,  put  the  little  chap  on  his  feet  and 
got  his  papers  together  for  him. 

Some  people  have  a  magnetic  manner  that  is 
both  instant  and  quelling  in  its  effect.  A  certain 
woman  enters  a  parlor,  and  for  some  subtle,  in 
definable  reason  all  eyes  are  fixed  upon  her.  She 
may  not  be  brilliant  yet  she  holds  the  winning 
hand ;  she  bears  on  her  face  "a  royal  flush,"  yet 
let  her  go  out  and  some  inferior  will  say,  "  now 
that  she's  gone,  we  can  talk  about  her."  Her 
quality  is  generally  called  instinctive,  but  prob 
ably  it  was  slowly  acquired,  for  lives  are  like 
lead-pencils — it  takes  long  experience  to  sharpen 
them  so  they  will  leave  a  clear,  keen  line.  Some 
times  this  line  appears  in  the  profile,  which  I 
have  often  believed  a  sure  indication  of  char 
acter  ;  so  did  Talleyrand. 

Human  expression  is  much  affected  by  geo 
graphical  location  and  custom.  An  American 
in  Japan  asked  his  host's  servants  for  a  bath, 
and  was  soon  informed  it  was  ready.  As  he 
298 


HUMAN  NATUEE 

saw  nothing  to  indicate  its  whereabouts,  he 
asked, 

"  Where  ?  " 

"Look  out  into  the  garden,  sir."  He  looked 
and  saw  his  hostess  and  host,  the  latter  being 
governor  of  the  town,  awaiting  him,  beside  an 
artificial  pool,  and  entirely  nude.  He  was  told 
that  according  to  Japanese  custom  the  first 
plunge  is  the  right  of  the  guest,  so  there  was  no 
time  to  lose,  for  the  good  people  were  shivering 
while  they  waited.  The  guest  went  out  looking 
like  Adam  before  the  downfall,  and  much  em 
barrassed  besides.  Stepping  into  the  water  he 
found  it  too  hot  and  begged  for  cold  water ;  the 
Japanese  take  only  warm  baths,  but  at  once  the 
pool  was  emptied  and  cold  water  was  turned  in. 
Meanwhile  the  lord  and  lady  stood  as  unadorned 
as  Greek  statues,  this  being  Japanese  custom 
while  waiting  at  a  bath.  Such  a  performance  in 
New  York  would  cause  even  Tammany  to  rally 
around  Dr.  Parkhurst,  but  in  Japan  it  "goes." 
This  gentle,  courteous,  considerate  family  also 
expressed  wonder  at  the  straightness  of  their 
guest's  legs,  their  own  being  bent  through  the 
habit  of  sitting  on  them  in  tailor-fashion  ; — Japa 
nese  custom  again. 

When  men  do  not  act  in  accordance  with  their 
looks,  some  tradition  or  custom  of  their  ancestors 
or  associates  will  account  for  it ;  a  man  is  gen- 
299 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

erally  a  Democrat  because  his  father  was  one, 
though  it  doesn't  invariably  follow  that  because 
"  the  governor  "  is  a  total  abstainer  the  "  Mar- 
tigny"  is  unknown  to  his  son.  Men  uncon 
sciously  initiate  other  men  and  their  ways,  be 
cause  other  men  have  done  it.  We  dress  in 
black  when  some  one  dear  to  us  dies. 

Why,  oh  men  of  Athens,  do  we  do  these  things  ? 
Should  any  dear  relative  of  mine  die,  I  think  I 
would  go  to  the  theatre  that  night, — if  I  felt 
like  it.  I  believe,  with  Mr.  Beecher,  in  rose- 
colored  funerals;  not  in  those  which  are  gray 
and  ghostly  with  ashes.  There  is  too  much  con 
vention  about  these  things.  Why  do  we  have  all 
the  formal  funerals,  when  the  only  real  senti 
ment  is  attended  to  by  the  hearts  of  the  be 
reaved?  When  the  body  is  dead  it  should  be 
put  away  quietly,  kindly,  reverently,  but  with 
out  any  display  of  tears — and  without  the  cards 
and  flowers.  They  are  the  style,  you  know,  but 
— why  cards?  Why  shouldn't  we  send  flowers 
anonymously,  so  as  to  spare  the  real  mourners 
the  pains  of  writing  an  acknowledgment  ?  Let 
us  steer  clear  of  conventional  sorrow  when  we 
can,  for  there  is  enough  of  the  real  article  to  go 
round.  If  the  night  must  come,  sprinkle  it  with 
stars ;  if  there  be  the  winding  sheet  of  snow, 
tinkle  sleigh  bells  over  it.  The  living  vvant  your 
love  far  more  than  the  dead  want  your  tears. 
300 


HUMAN  NATUEE 

But,  after  all  that  can  and  must  be  said  against 
it,  human  nature  is  kind.  Deceit,  love  of  gain, 
suspicion  and  even  violence  are  often  mere  means 
of  defense.  Get  through  the  joints  of  any  one's 
every -day  armor  and  reach  the  heart  and  the 
same  sweet  response  of  sympathy  rings  out,  the 
world  over,  in  tones  as  mellow  as  old  Trinity's 
chimes  on  New  Year's  eve,  and  self-disguised 
people  become  genuine.  For  illustration,  let  an 
old  man  or  old  woman  enter  a  street  car  crowded 
with  men  whose  faces  are  hard  with  business 
cares ;  why  every  seat  is  at  their  disposal ,  there 
is  the  genuineness  of  the  people. 

Yet  if  we  were  all  and  always  genuine  there 
would  be  no  human  nature  to  study,  for  "  Truth 
is  simple,  requiring  neither  study  nor  art." 


301 


"  Joe  "  Jefferson. — I  Take  His  Life. — His  Absent-Mindedness. 
— Jefferson  and  General  Grant. — Nat  Goodwin  and  How 
He  Helped  Me  Make  Trouble. — Our  Bicycling  Mishap. — 
Goodwin  Pours  Oil  on  Troubled  Dramatic  Waters  Abroad. 
— George  Leslie. — Wilton  Lackaye. — Burr  Mclntosh. — 
Miss  Ada  Kehan. 

EVERY  class  of  people  on  earth  contains  a 
pleasing  number  of  cheery  folk,  but  far 
the  greatest  proportion  is  found  in  the 
theatrical  profession.  Get  together,  if  you  can, 
all  the  companionable,  hospitable  souls  of  all 
other  classes  and  the  stage  people  by  themselves 
can  make  almost  as  good  a  showing.  When 
talking  of  them  I  never  know  where  to  begin  or 
how  to  stop,  for  they  have  loaded  me  with  kind 
nesses,  and  began  it  when  I  was  on  the  extreme 
outer  edge  of  a  profession  which  they  regarded 
as  a  mere  side  show  to  their  own. 

Years  ago  when  I  was  on  the  lecture  platform 
I  used  to  have  some  cloudy  hours,  in  spite  of  my 
efforts  to  be  sunny,  for,  unlike  theatrical  people, 
lecturers  are  usually  their  own  only  traveling 
companions,  the  railway  runs  are  long,  the  en- 
302 


SUNNY  STAGE  PEOPLE 

gagements  are  what  the  dramatic  agents  call 
"  one  night  stands,"  so  the  stops  are  so  short  that 
the  lecturer  has  no  chance  to  adapt  his  digestive 
apparatus  to  the  surprises  that  unknown  chefs  of 
unknown  hotels  delight  in  springing  upon  him. 
Years  ago — as  I  said  a  moment  ago,  I  was  think 
ing  of  all  these  miseries,  as  I  left  a  train  at  Utica 
on  a  snowy,  stormy  afternoon  of  the  Christmas 
holidays,  when  I  specially  longed  to  be  with  some 
friends  in  New  York.  I  had  four  blank  hours 
before  me,  for  I  was  not  to  appear  on  the  plat 
form  until  evening,  and  it  was  one  of  the  days 
when  I  was  too  tired  to  study  or  read  and  too 
shaken  up  to  sleep.  Suddenly  a  negro  porter  in 
drawing-room  car  uniform  accosted  me  with : 

"  Mr.  Wilder,  Mr.  Jefferson  would  like  to  see 
you." 

He  pointed  to  the  right,  and  there  in  the 
window  of  a  parlor  car,  sidetracked  for  the  day 
only,  stood  "  Joe  "  Jefferson.  When  I  got  into 
the  car  and  looked  about  me  I  saw  the  great 
"  all-star  "  cast  of  "  The  Rivals  " — dear  Mme. 
Ponisi,  Mr.  John  Drew,  Yiola  Allen,  W.  J.  Flor 
ence,  Otis  Skinner,  Frederic  Paulding,  Frank 
Bangs,  George  Dunham,  Elsie  C.  Lombard  (now 
Mrs.  John  T.  Brush),  and  Mr.  Jefferson's  sons, 
Tom,  Charlie,  Joe,  Jr.,  and  Willie. 

These  good  people  were  all  seated  around  the 
dining-table  of  the  special  car  that  I  entered,  and 
303 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

the  cordial  greeting  I  received,  combined  with 
the  contrast  with  "  all-outdoors "  and  all  else 
that  had  been  depressing  me,  made  me  the  hap 
piest  man  on  the  continent.  I  remained  there 
two  or  three  hours,  partly  because,  when  man 
ners  suggested  I  should  go,  I  was  forcibly  de 
tained.  I  told  stories  whenever  I  could,  but  I 
was  more  entertained  than  entertaining.  The 
time  came  when  I  was  really  obliged  to  go  and  I 
said: 

u  Mr.  Jefferson,  I  am  booked  here  to-night  at  a 
church,  and  I  must  begin  my  hour-long  enter 
tainment  at  seven  o'clock." 

"  Well,  Marshall,"  was  the  reply,  "  that  will 
give  you  a  chance  to  see  our  performance,  so 
we'll  reserve  a  box  for  you." 

I  thanked  him,  seized  my  bag,  hurried  to  a 
hotel  and  prepared  for  my  work.  The  church  in 
which  I  appeared  was  crowded — packed,  in  fact ; 
I  afterward  learned  that,  although  I  was  well 
and  properly  paid,  there  had  been  no  charge  for 
admission.  When  I  reached  the  theatre  the 
house  was  only  half  full,  but  the  performance  of 
"  The  Rivals  "  was  of  full  size.  After  the  curtain 
fell  I  went  to  my  hotel,  packed  my  bag  and  hur 
ried  to  the  station ;  I  had  almost  two  hours  to 
spare,  but  there  are  times  when  the  station  is 
more  interesting  than  the  hotel.  Soon  Charlie 
Jefferson  stumbled  over  me  and  took  me  back  to 
304 


SUNNY  STAGE  PEOPLE 

the  company's  car,  where  I  had  supper  with  the 
entire  cast. 

My  train  was  due  about  an  hour  after  midnight 
and  as  I  rose  to  make  my  adieux,  Mr.  Jefferson 
looked  kindly  down  on  me,  took  me  by  the  ear 
and  said,  in  his  own  inimitable  plaintive  manner, 

"  Friends,  I  want  you  to  look  at  this  little 


"I  Seized  My  Bag  and  Hurried  to  a  Hotel." 

scoundrel.  He  comes  up  here  from  New  York  ; 
we  entertain  him  ;  we  dine  him  for  three  hours, 
he  queers  our  house,  yet  gets  a  big  fee  for  his 
own  work.  We  again  entertain  him  for  hours  by 
giving  a  "  Kival "  show,  and  yet  he  is  not  satis 
fied  without  taking  my  life  " — with  this  he  handed 
me  a  beautifully  bound  book, "  Memoirs  of  Joseph 
Jefferson,"  with  the  inscription  in  the  fly-leaf, 
305 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

"  Presented  to  my  little  friend,  Marshall  P. 
Wilder." 

Everybody  tells  stories  of  Jefferson's  absent- 
mindedness,  and  he  sometimes  tells  them  himself. 
I  can  venture  to  repeat  two  which  he  himself  has 
told.  A  friend  of  young  Joe  was  making  a  long 
visit  at  Mr.  Jefferson's  house,  so  the  comedian 
saw  him  at  the  table  every  day  for  a  fortnight. 
One  evening  young  Joe  took  his  friend  to  the 
Player's  Club,  in  New  York.  The  elder  Jeffer 
son  was  there,  and  on  being  reminded  of  the 
young  man's  presence  he  said  cordially, 

"  My  boy,  I'm  very  glad  to  meet  you.  Why 
don't  you  come  up  and  see  us?  Do  come  and 
make  me  a  visit." 

But  here  is  Jefferson's  star  story  against 
himself. 

"  I  was  in  a  down-town  office  building  in  New 
York,  a  few  years  ago,  and  when  I  entered  the 
elevator  a  short  stout  gentleman  with  a  cigar  in 
his  fingers  spoke  to  me,  saying, 

"  '  How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Jefferson  ? ' 

" '  I  am  very  glad  to  see  you,'  I  replied.  He 
continued, 

" '  You  don't  know  me,  do  you,  Mr.  Jefferson  ? ' 

" '  Well,  really,  you  must  pardon  me,  but  your 
face  is  quite  familiar  but  your  name  has  escaped 
my  memory.' 

" '  My  name  is  Grant,'  he  said  quietly,  with 
306 


SUNNY  STAGE  PEOPLE 

a  twinkle  in  his  eye.  I  got  out  at  the  next 
floor;  I  was  so  afraid  I  might  ask  him  if  he 
had  been  in  the  war." 

But  there  is  no  accounting  for  absent-minded 
ness.  Charles  Wyndham,  the  English  comedian, 
tells  of  an  enthusiastic  hunter,  a  man  who 
thought  of  nothing  else.  One  morning  his 
wife  saw  him  leaving  the  house  and  asked : 

"  Where  are  you  going  ?  " 

"  Hunting,"  was  the  reply. 

"  But  where  is  your  gun  ?  " 

"  Bless  me !  I  was  sure  I  had  left  something 
behind." 

Kegarding  sunny-hearted  actors,  it  is  well  to 
remember  that  they  too  have  troubles  peculiarly 
their  own,  and  one  of  the  worst  is  to  have  an 
impulse  where  only  solemnity  is  in  order.  Nat 
Goodwin  who  has  been  making  audiences  laugh 
for  the  last  thirty  years  and  I  "  took  "  a  certain 
degree  of  masonry  together,  and  as  all  masons 
know,  the  proceedings  were  quite  as  solemn  as  a 
church  ceremony.  Taking  the  degree  with  us 
was  a  worthy  German,  whose  hold  on  the  Eng 
lish  language  was  both  weak  and  spasmodic,  as 
was  manifested  when  it  became  our  duty  to  re 
peat  certain  obligations,  sentence  or  sentences 
after  an  officer  of  the  lodge.  Both  Goodwin 
and  I  were  fully  impressed  by  the  gravity  of 
the  occasion,  yet  we  could  not  help  hearing  that 
307 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

German ;  he  had  a  dialectic  utterance  that  would 
have  driven  a  Philadelphia  vaudeville  audience 
wild  with  delight  and  although  he  caught  the 
sense  of  all  the  responses  required  of  us,  he  un 
consciously  repeated  many  of  them  backward  ac 
cording  to  the  constructive  forms  of  the  German 
language. 

Goodwin  and  I  knew  it  would  be  an  unpar 
donable  breach  of  decorum,  as  bad  as  laugh 
ing  aloud  in  church  in  prayer  time,  if  we  gave 
way  to  our  feelings.  I  bit  my  lips  till  they  bled. 
Nat,  less  conventional,  tried  to  stow  his  entire 
handkerchief  in  one  side  of  his  mouth,  while  he 
voiced  the  responses  from  the  other.  We  had 
almost  got  full  control  of  ourselves ;  the  beauti 
ful  and  impressive  service  was  almost  over,  but 
when  the  oath  was  required,  that  engaging  Ger 
man  repeated  it  backward.  I  yelled;  Goodwin 
had  a  spasm — almost  a  fit. 

To  square  ourselves,  required  a  dinner  for  the 
entire  lodge,  and  Goodwin  and  I  were  the  hosts. 

This  was  not  the  only  scrape  I  was  in  with 
Nat  Goodwin.  During  the  bicycle  craze  of  a 
few  years  ago,  when  wheels  were  as  numerous 
at  any  good  road-house  as  free-ticket  beggars  at 
a  theatre,  Nat  and  I  met  at  the  Casino,  in 
McGowan's  Pass,  Central  Park,  and  he  asked 
me  to  wait  for  him,  so  that  we  might  ride  home 
together.  "We  found  many  acquaintances  about 
308 


SUNNY  STAGE  PEOPLE 

the  tables,  remained  till  after  dark  and  then 
started  homeward  on  bicycles  without  lamps. 
We  had  not  expected  to  be  out  after  sunset. 
At  that  time  the  law  was  very  stringent  and 
rightly  so,  about  lights  on  bicycles,  so  I  urged 
haste.  Luckily  I  had  many  friends  among  the 
Park  Police  ;  they  knew  I  was  not  a  "scorcher" 
and  that  I  had  proper  respect  for  my  own  life,  so 
they  kindly  looked  aside  as  we  passed.  But  Nat 
— well  they  probably  had  seen  him  on  the  stage 
again  and  again  and  been  the  better  for  it,  but 
actors  don't  wear  their  stage  clothes  and  wigs 
and  paint  when  they  go  bicycling,  so  none  of  the 
officers  recognized  him.  At  a  turn  of  the  road 
we  came  upon  a  policeman  who  didn't  know  me 
either,  and  he  shouted — "  Here  you  fellows — 
stop !  "  I  don't  believe  I  am  a  slippery  chap, 
but  I  slipped  past  that  officer  before  he  could 
touch  my  wheel,  but  alas  for  poor  Nat !  he 
didn't.  I  did  not  remain  to  hear  the  conversa 
tion,  for  I  knew  I  could  not  make  any  useful  ad 
dition  to  it.  Goodwin  was  to  play  the  next 
night  in  Boston,  so  I  expected  to  see  a  "  scare 
head  "  story  in  the  morning  paper  about  his  ar 
rest.  But  fortunately  while  he  was  reasoning 
with  the  policeman,  a  friend  came  along  in  a  car 
riage  and  succeeded  in  rescuing  Nat  and  his  bi 
cycle  from  the  clutches  of  the  law. 
I  wish  the  carriage  had  been  mine  for  Nat 
309 


Goodwin  has  come  to  my  rescue  more  than 
once.  I  recall  one  of  the  (London)  Green 
room  Club's  annual  dinners,  which  Nat  and  I 
attended.  It  was  given  at  the  Crystal  Palace; 
Mr.  Bancroft — "  Squire  "  Bancroft,  "  Squire"  be 
ing  his  name  and  not  a  title — Mr.  Bancroft  was 
in  the  chair.  About  the  middle  of  the  evening 
a  four  cornered  discussion  between  Sir  Augustus 


"  I  Slipped  Past,  But  Alas  for  Poor  Nat,  He  Didn't ! " 


Harris,  Henry  Arthur  Jones,  Henry  Pettit  and 
Comyns-Carr,  all  good  fellows,  became  so  heated 
that  something  had  to  be  done  to  restore  quiet, 
so  Chairman  Bancroft  in  a  suave,  diplomatic  man 
ner  of  which  he  has  a  mastery,  arose  and  said, 
"  Gentlemen,  we're  here  to-night  for  a  good 
310 


SUNNY  STAGE  PEOPLE 

time.  Let's  quarrel  to-morrow.  I  take  great 
pleasure  in  calling  upon  our  American  friend, 
Mr.  Marshall  R  Wilder." 

I  arose,  but  the  excitement  had  got  all  around 
the  tables;  my  job  was  too  big  for  me,  and  I 
could  not  raise  a  laugh. 

As  I  dropped  into  my  chair,  the  chairman 
called  upon  Mr.  Goodwin.  Nat  got  up;  he 
began  gently  to  spray  oil  on  the  troubled 
waters;  then  he  drizzled  it;  showered  it  and 
finally  poured  it  on  by  the  tub  full  until  he 
got  the  entire  assemblage  laughing  and  saved 
the  day.  I  mean  the  night. 

Some  actors  produce  sunshine,  that  is,  laughter, 
by  direct  means,  others  indirectly  and  by  inver 
sion.  George  Leslie  and  Wilton  Lackaye  are  to 
the  point,  for  Leslie  is  an  optimist  and  "  jollier," 
while  Lackaye  is  sarcastic.  One  day  Lackaye 
said  to  Leslie :  "  The  only  difference  between  you 
and  me  is  that  you  bless  people  and  things  and 
I  damn  them — and  neither  of  us  is  on  the  level." 

At  a  dinner  at  the  Lambs'  Club,  Lackaye  bet 
Burr  Mclntosh  that  Burr  would  "  make  a  break  " 
nine  times  out  of  ten  in  whatever  he  did,  and  he 
added,  "  Mclntosh,  I'll  let  you  select  the  times." 
It  was  amusing  to  hear  Lackaye  say,  at  the  be 
ginning  of  every  dinner, — "Burr,  that  bet  still 
goes."  I  believe  it  has  not  yet  been  decided. 

But  Lackaye  is  best  when  telling  a  joke 
311 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE*  OF  THE  STREET 

against  himself.     While  he  was  a  member  of  the 
Daly  Company,  he  said : 

"  Miss  Ada  Kehan  is  a  charming  lady,  and  I've 
always  considered  her  a  great  comedienne — a 
creative  one.  At  rehearsal  one  day  we  were 
standing  aside  and  chatting,  the  scene  not  being 
ours  and  I  asked  off-hand, 


"  How  Long  Would  it  Take  You  to  Like  Me?  " 

"  *  Are  you  a  quick  study  ? ' 

"'Oh,  yes,    very,'    she  replied.     I  looked  at 
her  doubtingly  and  asked, 

" '  How  long  do  you  think  it  would  take  you  to 
like  me  ? ' 

"'Present? — or   absent?'    she   asked.     That 
floored  me." 

312 


XXIV 

SUNSHINE  IS  IN  DEMAND 

Laughter  Wanted  Everywhere. — Dismal  Efforts  at  Fun. — Eng 
lish  Humor. — The  Difference  Between  Humor  and  Wit. — 
Composite  Merriment. — Carefully  Studied  "Impromptus." 
— National  Types  of  Humor. — Some  Queer  Substitutes  for 
the  Real  Article. — Humor  is  Sometimes  "  Knocked  Out," 
Yet  Mirth  is  Medicine  and  Laughter  Lengthens  Life. 

« 

PEKHAPS  the  reason  that  the  true  jester  is 
always  sunny  of  heart  and  manner  is  that 
his  output  is  always  in  demand.  Busy 
though  his  wits  and  tongue  may  be,  the  demand 
always  exceeds  the  supply.  Laughter,  like  gold, 
is  never  a  drug  on  the  market,  and,  as  is  true  re 
garding  gold,  people  will  endure  some  frightful 
substitutes  rather  than  go  without  it.  In  coun 
tries  that  have  no  real  fun  in  them — and  there 
are  such  countries,  the  people  insist  on  having 
laughter  provided  for  them,  even  if  they  must 
depend  on  the  public  executioner  to  do  it.  It  is 
said  that  in  some  Asiatic  countries  the  people  be 
come  wildly  mirthful  at  the  contortions  of  a 
criminal's  body  from  which  the  head  has  just 
been  severed  ;  as  to  that,  there  are  solemn  Amer 
icans — men  who  would  think  it  sinful  to  smile  at 
313 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

a  comedy,  who  almost  split  their  sides  with 
laughter  over  the  floppings  of  a  beheaded 
chicken. 

As  to  that,  I  assert  on  my  honor  that  I  have 
seen  Englishmen  laugh  over  the  pages  of  Punch 
and  Frenchmen  roused  gleefully  by  a  copy  of 
Le  Petit  Journal  POUT  fiire,  though  both 


£?> 


"  Split  their  sides  with  laughter  over  the 
flapping  of  a  beheaded  chicken." 

papers  seem  as  dismal,  to  the  average  American, 
as  an  old-fashioned  German  on  the  doom  of  the 
finally  impenitent.  According  to  competent 
judges  the  best  thing  that  ever  appeared  in 
Punch  was  a  poem  on  the  death  of  Abraham 
Lincoln,  which  was  not  exactly  a  laughing  mat 
ter.  Yet  the  English  are  a  good-natured  people, 
and  full  of  laughter.  Sometimes  it  takes  them  a 
314 


SUNSHINE  IS  IN  DEMAND 

lot  of  time  to  get  off  a  laugh,  but,  when  the 
climax  is  really  reached,  the  sound  resembles  an 
Indian  war-whoop  tangled  up  in  a  thunder-storm. 
They  don't  take  their  pleasure  sadly,  for  there 
are  no  more  cheery-faced  people  in  the  world,  but 
their  joke-makers  are  not  successful  when  at 
work  on  serious  subjects.  Punch  was  never 
more  popular  than  during  the  recent  war  in 
South  Africa,  when  the  greatest  and  best  nation 
in  Europe  was  being  humiliated  in  plain  sight  of 
all  the  world  by  a  few  thousand  Boers,  not  one 
in  ten  of  whom  ever  fired  a  shot.  It  made  me 
almost  wish  I  could  be  an  Englishman,  just  to  see 
where  the  fun  came  in,  for  it  was  plain  to  see 
that  it  came. 

But,  to  get  back  to  my  subject,  every  healthy 
man  likes  to  laugh  ;  therefore  he  likes  whoever 
will  make  him  laugh.  Ella  Wheeler  Wilcox 
voiced  a  great  truth  when  she  wrote  "Laugh, 
and  the  world  laughs  with  you."  Men  are  so 
fond  of  laughing  that  they  will  endure  nine 
wormy  chestnuts,  badly  served,  if  the  tenth  effort 
produces  the  genuine  thing.  Much  of  the  best 
fun  comes  by  accident ;  that  is,  from  incongruity. 
Two  of  the  few  immortal  figures  of  humorous 
literature — Don  Quixote  and  Sancho  Panza,  owe 
their  existence  to  this  double  motif;  in  the 
knight,  by  idealized  chivalry  being  put  down 
among  pigs  and  kitchen  wenches ;  while  the  per- 
315 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

sistent  coarseness  and  vulgarity  of  his  squire  are 
thrown  into  juxtaposition  with  the  chivalry  and 
splendor  of  lords  and  ladies. 

Every  soul,  man  and  woman,  as  well  as  many 
who  are  not,  tries  to  provoke  smiles,  but  not  one 
in  a  thousand  succeeds ;  as  for  those  who  actually 
create  new  humor,  their  name  may  be  called  on 
the  fingers  of  two  hands.  Almost  all  humorists, 
whether  amateur  or  professional,  get  no  further 
than  to  evolve  variations  of  old  forms  and 
climaxes,  but  what  does  it  matter  so  long  as  they 
compel  a  laugh  ?  At  this  sort  of  thing  Ameri 
cans  beat  the  world.  A  cook  who  can  serve  a 
dozen  different  soups  from  one  kettle  is  a  bungler 
when  compared  with  the  American  joker. 

Mark  Twain  says  there  are  only  seven  original 
jokes  in  existence  and  he  ought  to  know,  yet  out 
of  them  has  come  an  output  that  is  incomparable, 
in  proportion,  except  to  the  evolution  of  the  en 
tire  English  language,  by  varying  the  changes  on 
the  twenty-six  letters  of  the  alphabet. 

The  demand  for  laugh-making  gives  employ 
ment  to  many  who  might  otherwise  be  in  far 
worse  business.  These  men  are  the  founts  of 
inspiration  for  the  newspapers  and  the  stage. 
The  press  and  the  footlights  are  ever  clamoring 
for  new  fun  and  numberless  are  the  attempts  to 
supply  the  demand  and  incidentally  utilize  it  in 
the  form  of  cold  cash.  This  stimulus  has  pro- 
316 


SUNSHINE  IS  IN  DEMAND 

duced  the  humorist  pure  and  simple,  the  para- 
grapher,  the  comic  versifier,  the  compounder  of 
burlesque  and  the  maker  of  witty  dialogue  to 
spice  the  works  of  serious  playwrights.  There 
is  also  the  humorous  artist ;  when  there  isn't, 
there  can  always  be  found  half  a  dozen  tipsters 
who  can't  draw  a  line  unless  they  have  a  yard 
stick  to  help  them  but  who  have  enough  funny 
concepts  on  tap  (and  for  sale)  to  make  fame  and 
money  for  all  the  artists  in  the  land. 

The  clever  impromptu  you  hear  in  a  vaudeville 
sketch,  the  delicious  eight  line  dialogue  you 
chuckle  over  in  the  morning  paper,  the  flashing 
contest  of  wit  you  enjoy  in  a  society  drama 
often  represent  the  labor,  not  of  one  but  of  a 
half  dozen  intellects  trained  to  the  elaboration 
of  humorous  conceits. 

If  all  the  humor  which  appears  daily  in  print 
and  on  the  stage  could  be  clipped  and  put  into 
scrap-books,  it  would  fill  forty  large  volumes  in  a 
year,  yet  nine-tenths  of  it — yes  nine  hundred 
and  ninety-nine  one  thousandth  would  consist  of 
variations  of  old  facts,  personalities,  situations 
and  plays  upon  words. 

Besides  all  these  clever  fellows  and  their 
works,  there  are  specialists  in  many  other  lines. 
Even  a  language  serious  enough  in  itself,  may  be 
so  twisted  as  to  make  people  laugh,  especially  if 
the  twist  can  be  nicknamed  "  dialect " ;  so  we 
317 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STREET 

have  the  purveyor  of  German  humor  (so  called) 
the  manufacturer  of  Irish  "  bulls,"  the  sedlac  of 
French  jokes,  the  broker  in  Italian  bon-mots,  and 
a  few  days  ago  I  heard  of  a  cosmopolitan  in 
dividual  with  a  high  sounding  Celt-Iberian  name, 


c) 


"  The  latest  jeux  d1  esprit  of  Chinatown." 

who  offered  to  supply  a  prominent  comedian 
with  the  latest  humor  of  Portugal  and  Brazil.  I 
don't  doubt  that  before  long  some  enterprising 
Mongolian  will  be  trotting  around  among  vaude 
ville  managers  with  a  stock  of  the  latest  jeux 
tfesprit  of  Chinatown,  Canton,  and  Hong-kong, 
318 


SUNSHINE  IS  IN  DEMAND 

or  that  some  one  will  put  them  in  good  enough 
shape  to  make  people  laugh.  Good  luck  to  them, 
for  after  all,  the  laugh  is  the  thing.  No  one  joke 
will  be  equally  amusing  to  everybody,  for  each 
person  has  his  own  ideas  of  fun.  For  instance 
on  a  sunny  Sunday  afternoon  in  the  country,  a 
lot  of  good  healthy  minded  folks  will  munch  red 
winter  apples  and  gather  round  the  piano  and 
sing  "Happy  Day,"  and  other  Sunday-school 
songs,  and  look  as  full  of  fun  as  any  comedian's 
audience.  And  the  grab-bag  at  the  church  fair ! 
Around  it  there  is  more  fun  visible  in  human 
faces,  than  some  great  men  get  out  of  the 
cleverest  jokes  ever  cracked.  There  is  no  end 
to  fun,  no  more  than  there  is  to  the  melodies 
that  keep  rising,  like  birds  from  the  eight  keyed 
home  of  song,  that  octave  that  reaches  from 
"  Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay  "  to  "  Tannhauser." 

And  there  is  no  need  of  it  all,  for  "  mirth  is 
medicine  and  laughter  lengthens  life."  That  is 
what  my  good  friend  Colonel  Robert  Ingersoll 
wrote  under  his  picture  which  adorns  my  wall. 
The  Colonel  was  one  of  us  entertainers,  though 
not  professionally.  Our  merry  champion  he ! 
The  spirit  of  his  tender  epigram  seems  to  haunt 
the  dim  twilight  ways  of  men,  looking  with 
cheery  solicitude  for  those  who  are  weary,  to 
take  them  by  the  hand  and  tell  them  tales  full  of 
dawn  and  breaking  day,  and  rush  of  rosy  life 
319 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

in  rising  sun.  It  stands  on  the  side  of  light 
and  love  along  the  paths  where  flowers  bloom 
and  birds  are  glad  in  song.  And  it  is  needed, 
for  from  the  start,  there  has  been  a  fight  be 
tween  merriment  and  misery  and  the  latter  has 
its  stout  advocates.  The  gloomster  and  the 
jester  have  ever  been  sparring  for  paints  and 
sometimes  the  jester  has  gone  down  under 
swinging  right-handers;  then,  something  that 
its  enemies  call  Puritanism,  probably  because 
it  hates  all  purity  not  of  its  own  peculiar  brand, 
has  clapped  its  hands,  all  smeared  with  brim 
stone,  until  you  could  see  the  blue  flames  of  the 
place  that  Ingersoll  said  didn't  exist. 


320 


XXY 

"BILL"  NYE 

A  Humorist  of  the  Best  Sort. — Not  True  to  His  Own  Descrip 
tion  of  Himself. — Everybody's  Friend. — His  Dog  "Ento 
mologist"  and  the  Dog's  Companions. — A  Man  With  the 
Right  Word  for  Every  Occasion. — His  Pen-Name  was  His 
Own. — Often  Mistaken  for  a  Distinguished  Clergyman. — 
Killed  by  a  Published  Falsehood. 

IN  one  respect  entertainers  closely  resemble 
preachers  ; — they  greatly  enjoy  listening  to 
the  greater  members  of  their  own  profession. 
Consequently,  I  never  lost  a  chance  to  listen  to 
Bill  Nye,  and  I  worship  the  memory  of  him  as  he 
•was — a  gentle  yet  sturdy  and  persistent  humorist 
of  so  good  a  sort,  that  he  never  could  help  being 
humorous,  no  matter  how  uncongenial  the  sur 
roundings.     Although  he  saw  hundreds  and  thou 
sands  of  chances  of  hitting  other  men  so  hard  that 
the  hurt  would  last  forever,  he  dropped  every 
one  of  them  and  trampled  them  so  hard  that  they 
never  dared  show  their  faces  again.     He  was  an 
apostle  of  the  Golden  Rule,  which  he  exemplified 
in  himself,  so  there  never  was  a  sting  in  his  jokes ; 
gentle  raillery  was  the  sweetest  thing  he  ever  at 
tempted,  and  even  this  he  did  with  so  genial  a 
smile  and  so  merry  an  eye,  that  a  word  of  his 
321 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

friendly  chaffing  was  worth  more  than  a  cart 
load  of  formal  praise. 

I  speak  what  I  do  know,  for  he  and  I  were 
close  friends  for  many  years  before  his  untimely 
death,  and  he  was  so  solicitous  for  my  welfare 
and  comfort,  that  after  he  had  played  father  and 
mother  to  me  successfully,  he  couldn't  help  going 
on  till  he  had  become  my  grandfather  and  grand 
mother,  as  well  as  a  number  of  sisters  and  cous 
ins  and  aunts. 

I  don't  believe  he  ever  had  an  enemy  but  him 
self,  and  he  injured  himself  only  by  his  peculiari 
ties  of  self-description.  Any  one  reading  his 
humorous  articles  would  imagine  him  an  under 
sized  scrawny  backwoods  invalid  with  an  irrita 
ble  disposition  and  an  unquenchable  thirst  for 
something  else  than  water.  In  reality  he  was  a 
tall,  broad-shouldered,  deep  chested,  healthy,  ge 
nial  chap  so  in  love  with  the  mere  fact  of  living, 
that  he  took  scrupulous  care  of  himself  in  every 
way.  He  was  as  abstemious  as  any  clergyman 
who  is  not  a  total  abstainer,  and  he  never  lost  his 
temper  except  when  some  deliberate  scoundrelism 
was  inflicted  upon  him.  He  would  go  out  of  his 
way — a  whole  day's  journey  out  of  his  way,  with 
all  the  railway  fares  and  other  discomforts  in 
such  cases  made  and  provided, — to  help  a  friend 
out  of  a  sick  bed  or  other  trouble,  and  he  endured 
all  the  torments  of  a  busy  entertainer's  season  on 
322 


"BILL"  NYE 

the  road  as  cheerfully,  as  if  he  were  perpetual 
holder  of  the  record  for  patience. 

People  often  wondered  how  he  could  go  on 
year  after  year  digging  the  same  kind  of  fun  out 
the  same  old  vein,  but  the  secret  was  that  he 
lived  right  in  the  centre  of  that  vein  and  was 
merely  digging  his  way  out  of  it.  He  had  a  full 
assortment  of  polite  commonplaces,  and  carried 
them  as  gracefully  as  he  did  his  full-dress  clothes, 
but  as  soon  as  he  got  well  acquainted  with  a  man 
— and  it  didn't  take  him  long  to  get  inside  of  any 
decent  fellow's  waistcoat — he  would  talk  in  his 
characteristic  droll  manner  all  day  and  seven 
days  a  week,  and  as  much  longer  as  they  two 
traveled  together. 

As  seriously  as  if  he  were  talking  of  audiences 
or  hotel  tables  or  railway  nuisances,  he  told  me 
a  story  of  a  dog  he  had  owned.  It  was  a 
Dachshund,  and  Nye  described  him  as  two  and 
a-half  dogs  long  by  one  dog  high.  He  had  named 
the  animal  "  Entomologist,"  because  it  was  a  col 
lector  of  insects.  In  fact,  the  dog  lived  up  to  his 
name  so  strenuously  that  something  had  to  be 
done.  A  friend  suggested  soaking  the  dog  in 
kerosene,  saying, 

"  If  it  doesn't  rid  the  dog  of  fleas,  it  will  rid 
you  of  the  dog." 

So  kerosene  was  tried  and  the  dog  passed  away. 
After  all  was  over  Bill  felt  so  bad  that  he  went 
323 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

out  for  a  walk,  which  did  him  no  good.  Return 
ing  home  with  dejected  spirits  and  a  sorrowing 
soul,  he  was  smitten  afresh  with  remorse  when 
he  realized  that  there  would  be  no  little  dog 
awaiting  him.  But  yes,  surely  there  was  some 
thing  on  the  steps.  Looking  closer  he  saw  seven 
hundred  fleas  sitting  there,  and  they  all  looked 
up  into  his  face  as  if  to  say, 


r*N 


1  He  has  named  the  animal  '  Entomologist.'  " 

"  When  are  you  going  to  get  us  another  dog  ?  " 
Few  of  the  great  world's  great  dispatches  con 
tained  so  much  wisdom  in  so  few  words  as  Nye's 
historic  wire  from  Washington  — 

"  My  friends  and  money  gave  out  at  3  A.  M." 
He  had  an  enviable  faculty  for  suppressing  an 
noyances   in  the  course  of  an  entertainment — 
something  more  dreaded  by  any  entertainer  than 
324 


"BILL"  NYE 

a  thin  house.  In  the  course  of  one  of  his 
lectures  in  Minneapolis  a  late  comer  had  some 
difficulty  about  his  seat,  and  lingered  inside  the 
inner  door  to  voice  some  loud  protestations.  Of 
course  every  head  in  the  audience  turned  toward 
the  door ; — anything  for  a  change,  no  matter  how 
good  a  thing  has  been  provided. 


Lingered  inside  the  inner  door  to  voice  some  loud  protestations. 

Nye  endured  the  disturbance  for  some  time ; 
then  he  said  politely  but  icily, 

"  This  is  a  large  auditorium,  and  a  difficult  one 
in  which  to  hear,  but  fortunately  we  are  provided 
with  a  speaker  at  each  end  of  the  house."  It  is 
needless  to  say  which  speaker  received  attention 
after  that. 

325 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STREET 

Mr.  Nye  was  engaged  to  speak  at  Columbus, 
Ohio,  in  a  newly-finished  church  with  which  the 
minister  and  his  flock  were  as  well  pleased  as  a 
small  boy  with  his  first  pair  of  trousers.  So,  in 
a  short  preliminary  and  self-congratulatory  ad 
dress  the  minister  referred  to  the  church  edifice, 
called  attention  to  its  many  details  of  architec 
tural  beauty  and  convenience,  and  laid  special 
stress  on  its  new  and  improved  system  of  exits. 

"  Ladies  and  gentlemen,"  drawled  Nye  a  mo 
ment  later,  "I  have  appeared  in  a  great  many 
cities,  but  this  is  the  first  time  I  have  been  pre 
ceded  by  any  one  instructing  the  audience  how  to 
get  out." 

Every  man  has  his  special  trouble,  but  Nye  had 
two ;  one  was  the  reluctance  of  the  public  to  be 
lieve  that  his  pen  name  was  his  real  name,  and 
the  other  was  the  persistency  of  some  people  at 
mistaking  for  another  fine  fellow  in  a  somewhat 
different  public  position — The  Rev.  Morgan  Dix, 
D.  D.,  LL.  D.,  Rector  of  Trinity  Parish,  New 
York.  Mr.  Dix's  stories  are  as  good  as  his  ser 
mons,  which  is  saying  a  great  deal,  and  Nye's 
face  when  in  repose  suggested  a  man  who  could 
preach  a  strong  sermon  of  his  own.  Neverthe 
less,  it  is  awkward  to  be  mistaken  for  any  one 
but  yourself.  As  to  his  name,  every  one  who 
heard  of  Bill  Nye  associated  him  mentally  with 
the  oft-quoted  person  of  the  same  name  who  first 
326 


"BILL"  NYE 

appeared  in  Bret  Harte's  poem  "The  Heathen 
Chinee,"  and  assumed  that  the  humorist's  pro 
fessional  name  was  assumed.  The  poor  chap  ex 
plained  at  length,  through  a  popular  magazine, 
that  he  came  honestly  by  his  name,  having  been 
christened  Edgar  William  Nye  and  nicknamed 
"Bill"  from  his  cradle,  but  to  his  latest  days 
he  was  besieged  by  autograph-hunters  who 
asked  for  his  signature — "your  real  name,  too, 
please." 

This  genial  man  of  cleanly  life  and  good  habits 
was  brutally  slaughtered  by  the  public  to  whom 
for  years  he  had  given  laughter  and  sunshine. 
People  throughout  the  country  turned  against 
him  when  they  heard  the  first  breath  of  calumny. 
Without  waiting  to  hear  whether  the  story  told 
of  him  was  true  or  false,  "'  The  Dear  Public  " 
treated  him  so  meanly  that  it  crushed  his  spirit, 
sturdy,  honest  man  though  he  was,  broke  his 
heart,  and  caused  his  death  within  a  year. 

It  came  about  at  Paterson,  New  Jersey,  where 
he  had  been  engaged  to  deliver  a  lecture.  He 
had  been  suffering  greatly  from  insomnia,  for 
which  expert  medical  direction  he  had  taken  a 
certain  anodyne  (non-alcoholic).  Before  his 
evening  nap  preceding  the  lecture  he  may  have 
taken  an  overdose,  or  it  may  have  worked  slower 
than  usual.  Whatever  the  medical  cause — for  he 
had  taken  nothing  else,  he  was  drowsy  and  slow 
327 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

of  speech  on  the  platform.  To  make  matters 
worse  from  the  start,  he  tumbled  over  a  loose 
edge  of  carpet  as  he  came  before  the  audience ; 
although  very  near  sighted,  he  had  good  pro 
fessional  precedents  for  disliking  to  wear  glasses 
on  the  platform,  otherwise  his  eyes  might  have 
saved  his  feet.  But  the  succession  of  accident 
and  manner  impressed  the  audience  wrongly. 
"When  the  lecture  was  over  some  rough  characters 
who  had  been  in  the  audience  followed  Nye's 
carriage  to  the  railway,  throwing  eggs  at  it  and 
whooping  like  demons. 

Next  morning  almost  all  the  New  York  papers 
published  the  report  that  Mr.  Nye  had  appeared 
before  an  audience  the  night  before  in  an  out 
rageously  intoxicated  condition,  and  had  been 
egged  off  the  platform !  Newspapers  are  entirely 
at  the  mercy  of  the  men  whom  they  employ  to 
collect  news  for  them ;  some  which  used  the 
Paterson  story  were  honest  enough  to  publish  cor 
rections  afterward,  but  no  correction  is  ever  strong 
and  swift  enough  to  catch  up  with  a  lie.  "What 
I  have  said  regarding  the  causeless  cause  of  the 
untimely  death  of  a  humorist  who  can  never  be 
replaced  is  of  my  own  knowledge ;  I  was  very 
close  to  Mr.  Nye  in  the  last  year  of  his  life  and 
know  what  he  thought  and  said. 

I  also  had  a  strange  reminder  of  the  night  on 
which  the  story  started.  Some  of  the  audience 
328 


"BILL"  NYB 

had  complained  to  the  lecture  committee  that 
they  had  not  received  their  money's  worth,  so  it 
was  decided  to  give  another  lecture  without 
charge,  to  make  amends  for  the  disappointment. 
I  chanced  to  be  the  man  chosen  to  give  the  en 
tertainment  which  was  to  apply  salve  to  the 
wounded  pockets  of  that  audience,  though  I  did 
not  know  it  at  the  time.  I  did  notice  however, 
that  the  committee  seemed  to  be  "  in  a  state  of 
mind"  and  urged  me  to  do  my  best.  It  also 
seemed  to  me  that,  metaphorically  speaking,  the 
entire  audience  had  a  chip  on  its  shoulder ;  still,  I 
succeeded  in  pleasing  it. 

After  I  had  finished  I  learned  that  I  had  been 
selected  to  pacify  the  very  people  whose  igno 
rance,  stupidity  and  folly  had  caused  the  death  of 
a  good  man  who  had  been  my  friend.  By  a  sad 
coincidence,  it  was  on  that  very  day  that  dear 
Bill  Nye  was  buried ! 


329 


XXYI 

SOME  SUNNY  SOLDIERS 

General  Sherman. — Hi3  Dramatic  Story  of  a  Trysting-plaoe. — 
The  Battle  of  Shiloh  Fought  Anew.— Sherman  and  Barney 
Williams. — General  Kussell  A.  Alger  On  War. — General 
Lew  Wallace.— The  Room  in  Which  He  Wrote  "Ben 
Hur." — His  Donkey  Story. — General  Nelson  A.  Miles  and 
Some  of  His  Funny  Stories. — A  Father  Who  Wished  He 
Had  Been  a  Priest. 

SOLDIERS  are  popularly  supposed  to  be  the 
grimmest  men  in  the  world,  but  I  have 
found  them  a  jolly  lot,  and  the  more  prom 
inent  they  were  the  greater  the  assortment  of  fun 
in  them. 

The  first  of  the  military  profession  whom  I 
came  to  know  well  was  General  Sherman,  and  I 
never  had  a  kindlier  or  cheerier  friend.  He  had 
no  end  of  good  stories  at  his  tongue's  end,  and  no 
one  cared  if  they  were  funny  or  serious  when 
Sherman  told  them,  for  his  manner  was  so  ear 
nest  and  animated  that  it  was  a  treat  to  listen  to 
him  and  look  at  him.  Besides  having  a  fluent 
tongue  and  a  voice  with  no  end  of  modulation,  he 
talked  also  with  his  eyes  and  all  his  features,  his 
head,  hands  and  shoulders.  It  used  to  seem  to 
330 


SOME  SUNNY  SOLDIEES 

me  that  a  deaf  man  could  understand  all  that 
Sherman  was  saying.  He  was  one  of  the  few 
talkers  who  could  interest  all  sorts  and  conditions 
of  hearers,  from  wise  men  and  women,  to  simple 
boys  and  girls.  Speaking  of  girls,  reminds  me 
of  a  story  that  General  Sherman  told  one  day  at 
a  dinner  I  attended  with  my  friend  Col.  John  A. 
Cockerill : 

"  When  I  was  driving  one  day  with  General 
Grant,  I  asked  him  what  he  was  going  to  have 
as  a  hobby,  now  that  the  war  was  over.  He  an 
swered  promptly,  '  Horses,'  and  continued, 

"  *  What's  to  be  yours,  Sherman  ? '  and  I  re 
plied, 

" '  Oh,  I'll  take  the  girls ! '  My  fondness  for  the 
fair  sex  seems  to  be  pretty  well  known,  but  I'm 
not  ashamed  of  it ;  on  the  contrary,  I'm  very 
proud  of  it,  for  I  don't  know  of  any  better  com 
pany  than  nice  girls  of  all  ages — say  from  a  hun 
dred  minutes  to  a  hundred  years.  My  fondness 
for  them  began  early  ;  why,  when  I  was  a  mere 
boy  I  had  a  little  sweetheart  down  South  of  whom 
I  was  very  fond.  We  used  to  take  long  walks  in 
the  scented  pine  woods,  and  ride  down  the  white 
'pikes';  but  our  favorite  spot — it  became  al 
most  a  trysting-place, — was  a  little  hill  on  her 
father's  plantation.  No  matter  where  we  rode 
or  walked,  we  were  pretty  sure  to  find  our  way 
to  that  spot,  for  it  commanded  a  view  of  all  the 
331 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STREET 

country  round,  yet  it  could  scarcely  be  seen  from 
the  lower  ground,  for  some  pine-trees  screened  it. 

"  But  this  love  idyl  of  mine  came  to  naught, 
like  many  other  boyish  affairs.  I  went  to  West 
Point,  the  girl  married  another  fellow  and  the 
next  time  I  found  myself  in  that  part  of  the 
country  was  on  the  day  of  a  desperate  battle. 
The  enemy  was  pressing  us  closely,  we  were  con 
testing  every  step,  yet  losing  ground,  for  lack  of 
a  good  position  for  our  batteries.  Trees  were  so 
numerous  that  it  seemed  impossible  to  find  a 
clearing  or  elevation  from  which  the  guns  could 
be  served  to  advantage. 

"  Suddenly,  in  spite  of  a  head  full  of  business 
and  trouble,  for  my  aides  and  other  men's 
aides  were  bringing  me  dismal  reports,  and  things 
were  looking  very  dark,  I  realized  where  I  was 
and  remembered  our  beloved  knoll.  My  mind's 
eye  informed  me  that  a  more  perfect  position  for 
field  artillery  could  not  have  been  designed,  for 
it  commanded  the  surrounding  country  to  the  full 
range  of  our  guns.  Yet  for  a  moment  I  hesitated. 
It  seemed  desecration,  for  I  had  absolute  rever 
ence  for  the  ground  which  that  dear  girl's  feet 
had  often  pressed.  But — yes,  war  is  hell — my 
duty  at  the  moment  was  to  the  nation,  so  I 
turned  to  an  aide,  described  the  knoll  and  told 
how  the  artillery  could  reach  it.  The  batteries 
were  soon  in  position  there,  and,  as  most  of  the 
332 


SOME  SUNNY  SOLDIERS 

enemy  were  in  the  open  beyond  the  trees,  they 
were  quickly  checked  by  a  deadly  fire,  and  we 
were  saved." 

This  story  was  told  as  simply  as  I  have  re 
peated  it,  yet  the  manner  of  telling  affected  all 
the  listeners  noticeably.  Colonel  Cockerill  leaned 
over  me  and  whispered, 

"  I'm  going  to  write  that  story  up  some  day, 
Marshall,  so  you  be  careful  to  let  it  alone,  and 
leave  it  to  me." 

I  promised,  but  Cockerill's  untimely  death  pre 
vented  him  doing  it.  Besides,  I  have  not  at 
tempted  to  "  write  it  up." 

Sherman's  pen  was  quite  as  descriptive  as  his 
tongue,  as  the  following  letters  to  me  will  attest. 
One  is  on  a  subject  on  which  he  was  very  sore — 
the  oft  repeated  story  that  on  the  first  day  of  the 
battle  of  Pittsburg  Landing,  or  Shiloh,  our  army 
was  surprised  and  defeated. 

"  No.  75  West  71st  St., 
"  New  York,  Jan.  1.,  1890. 
"  DEAR  MARSHALL  : — 

"  I  thank  you  for  sending  me  the  printed 
paper  containing  the  observations  and  experiences 
of  our  friend  Cockerill  about  the  battle  of  Shiloh 
or  Pittsburg  Landing,  April  6  or  7,  1862. 
Having  leisure  this  New  Year's  day,  I  have  read 
every  word  of  it,  and  from  his  standpoint  as  a 
boy,  four  miles  from  the  war,  where  the  hard 
fighting  was  done,  his  account  was  literally  true. 
333 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

His  father  (a  noble  gentleman)  and  I  were  fight 
ing  for  time  because  our  enemy  for  the  moment 
outnumbered  us,  and  we  had  good  reason  to  ex 
pect  momentarily  Lew  Wallace's  division,  only 
six  miles  off,  and  BuelPs  whole  army,  only 
twenty  miles  away.  By  contesting  every  foot  of 
ground,  the  enemy  was  checked  till  night.  Our 
reinforcements  came  on  the  7th.  We  swept  our 
front  and  pursued  a  retreating  enemy  ten  miles, 
and  afterward  followed  up  to  Corinth,  Memphis, 
Vicksburg,  etc.,  etc.,  to  the  end.  That  bloody 
battle  was  fought  April  6  and  7,  1862.  After 
we  had  actually  driven  our  assailants  back  to 
Corinth,  twenty-six  miles,  we  received  the  St. 
Louis,  Cincinnati  and  Louisville  papers,  that  we 
were  '  surprised,'  bayonetted  in  our  beds  (blan 
kets  on  the  ground)  and  disgracefully  routed. 

"  These  reports  we  heard  at  the  river  bank, 
and  from  steamboats  under  high  pressure  to  get 
well  away.  And  such  is  history. 

"  In  the  van  of  every  battle  is  a  train  of  fugi 
tives.  We  had  at  the  time  32,000  men,  of  which, 
say  five  or  six  thousand  were  at  the  steamboat 
landing,  but  what  of  the  others  ?  A  braver, 
finer  set  of  men  never  existed  on  earth.  The 
reporters  dwelt  on  the  fugitives,  because  they 
were  of  them,  but  who  is  to  stand  up  for  the 
brave  men  at  the  front  ? 

"  We  had  no  reporters  with  us.  Like  sensible 
men  they  preferred  a  steamboat  bound  for 
Paducah  and  Cincinnati,  where  they  could  de 
scribe  the  battle  better  than  we,  who  were  with 
out  pen  and  ink. 

"  This  to  me,  is  straw  already  threshed,  for  we 
334 


SOME  SUNNY  SOLDIEES 

had  fought  this  battle  on  paper  several  times — a 
much  more  agreeable  task  than  to  fight  with 
bullets. 

"  When  in  England  some  years  ago,  I  was 
gratified  to  listen  to  old  veterans  fighting  Water 
loo  and  Sebastopol  over  again.  So,  I  infer,  our 


"  Preferred  a  Steamboat  Bonnd  for  Paducah." 

children  will  continue  the  fight  of  Shiloh  long 
after  we  are  dead  and  gone. 

"  Wishing  you  a  Happy  New  Year,  I  am, 
"  Sincerely  yours, 

"  W.  T.  SHERMAN." 

"  75  W.  71st  St., 
"  New  York,  Sept.  20,  1889. 
"  Marshall  P.  Wilder,  Esq., 

"  The  Alpine,  New  York  City. 
"  MY  DEAR  MARSHALL  :— 

"  I  have  now  completed  the  first  reading 
of  the  volume  entitled,  'The  People  I've  Smiled 
With,'  and  according  to  promise,  write  to  assure 
335 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

you  that  it  has  afforded  me  unusual  pleasure.  I 
feel  the  better  at  having  smiled  with  you,  with 
enjoying  many  a  happy  laugh,  and  moved  by  its 
pathos  ;  and  as  I  infer  you  will  have  occasion  to 
amend  and  add  other  volumes  in  the  same  strain, 
I  venture  to  suggest,  as  to  myself,  page  211  should 
read,  '  some  years  ago,  down  at  the  little  village 
of  Paducah,  Ky.,  the  Seventieth  Ohio  reported 
to  me.  Cockerill  was  a  drummer  boy  in  the  reg 
iment.  His  father  was  the  colonel,  and  had  got 
his  education  in  Virginia,  but  was  true  to  the 
nation.  That  regiment  was  with  me  at  Shiloh, 
where  we  stood  a  heavy  fire,  and  that  is  what 
made  us  staunch  friends.  He  went  ahead  right 
straight  along,  as  he  has  been  doing  ever  since. 
As  the  sins  of  the  father  go  down  to  the  fourth 
generation,  as  the  Bible  says,  it  is  a  comfort  to 
realize  that  the  virtues  go  down  one.' 

"  The  stereotype  plate  can  easily  be  changed  to 
this,  and  it  would  be  more  accurate  and  satisfac 
tory  to  military  readers. 

"  Your  anecdotes  of  after-dinner  speakers, 
actors,  actresses,  etc.,  etc.,  are  most  interesting, 
and  soon  may  become  historic.  I  venture  to  add 
one  which  you  can  '  stow  away '  and  use,  or  not 
according  to  your  pleasure. 

"In  January,  1872,  I  was  with  my  two  aides, 
Colonel  Anderson  and  Fred  Grant,  at  the  hotel 
Chauerain,  Nice,  when  the  servant  brought  me  a 
card  'B.  F.  Williams,  New  York.'  I  answered 
'  show  him  up.'  He  soon  entered  my  room, 
where  I  had  a  fire  on  the  hearth,  and  for  some 
minutes  we  talked  about  the  weather,  New  York, 
etc., — when  he  remarked :  *  General  Sherman,  I 
336 


SOME  SUNNY  SOLDIEES 

don't  believe  you  recognize  me.  Possibly  if  I 
sav  I  am  Barney  Williams,  you  will  know  me 
better.'  Of  course  I  did,  and  my  greeting  then 
was  as  hearty  as  he  could  have  wished.  He  had 
called  to  invite  me  to  a  dinner  party  at  his  villa, 
which  compliment  I  accepted  for  the  next  Sun 
day,  and  agreed  upon  the  guests,  including  our 
minister,  Mr.  Washburn,  then  at  Nice,  James 
Watson  Webb,  Luther  M.  Kennet  of  St.  Louis, 
and  others,  and  a  more  distinguished  or  congenial 
company  never  assembled  than  did  at  that  din 
ner.  I  must  not,  and  will  not  attempt  descrip 
tions,  even  as  to  our  witty  genial  host  Barney 
Williams  ;  all  told  stories  of  their  personal  expe 
riences,  and  the  veteran,  James  Watson  Webb,  in 
his  grand  and  inimitable  way,  recounted  his  ad 
ventures  when,  in  1824,  he  was  a  lieutenant  at 
Fort  Dearborn  (now  Chicago).  He  traveled  by 
night  with  a  Sergeant  of  his  Company,  concealing 
himself  by  day,  to  Kock  Island,  to  notify  the 
Garrison  that  the  Sioux  and  Foxes  contemplated 
a  surprise  on  their  stockade  on  an  occasion  of  a 
ball  play,  in  which  the  Indians  intended  to  mas 
sacre  the  whole  garrison,  which  was  prevented  by 
this  notice.  But  I  now  come  to  the  real  anecdote 
of  Barney  Williams.  He  narrated  in  his  best 
style,  his  own  early  life  as  an  actor :  that  in 
Dublin  he  was  very  poor,  and  took  his  meals  at  a 
cheap  restaurant  along  with  some  fellows.  Ha 
bitually  they  were  waited  on  by  a  servant,  most 
prompt  and  obliging,  but  who  would  periodically 
get  on  a  bad  spree.  This  occurred  about  the 
time  when  the  Catholic  priest,  Father  Matthews, 
was  preaching  the  crusade  against  intemperance. 
337 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

These  young  actors  conspired  to  cure  this  servant, 
and  laid  their  plot.  Paddy  was  absent  several 
days,  and  their  meals  were  served  badly.  At 
last  he  made  his  appearance,  eyes  bunged,  face 
flushed,  and  the  well-known  symptoms  of  a  big 
drunk.  Whilst  arranging  the  table  for  breakfast, 
Barney  Williams  read  from  the  morning  paper — 
'  Horrible !  Most  Horrible !  Last  night  as 
Terence  O'Flanagan  was  lying  on  his  bed,  near 
which  he  had  brought  his  candle,  which  he  tried 
to  blow  out,  the  flames  followed  the  fumes  of  the 
alcohol  to  his  throat,  and  he  died  in  terrible 
agony,  etc.,  etc.' 

" '  What  is  that,  sor  ?  Please  read  it  again,' 
said  Paddy.  It  was  read  again  with  increased 
accent  and  additions.  '  Please  send  for  the 
Bible,  mark  on  it  the  cross,  and  I  will  take  the 
pledge.'  The  Bible  was  sent  for  and  on  it 
was  marked  the  cross,  when  Paddy  placed  his 
hand  on  the  book,  and  pronounced  the  pledge. 

"Never  as  long  as  he  lived,  when  on  a  drunk, 
would  he  attempt  to  blow  out  a  candle.  How 
far  short  of  the  reality  seems  the  effect  of  words 
spoken  or  written.  Therein  comes  the  part  of 
the  drama,  not  the  thing  itself,  but  the  nearest 
possible. 

"I  have  seen  Dioramas,  Cycloramas,  Dramas, 
Plays,  etc.,  of  war  and  its  thousands  of  incidents. 
All  fall  short  of  the  real  thing ;  but  I  wish  to  be 
understood  as  not  discouraging  any  honest  effort 
to  record  the  past,  draw  from  it  the  lessons 
which  make  us  wise  and  better,  and  still  more,  to 
give  such  as  you,  who  make  men,  women  and 
children  happy  and  cheerful,  when  otherwise 
338 


SOME  SUNNY  SOLDIEES 

they  might  be  moping  and  unhappy.     God  bless 
you! 

"  Sincerely  your  friend, 

"  W.  T.  SHERMAN." 


A  battle  story  seems  natural  to  follow  any 
mention  of  General  Sherman,  so  here  is  one, 
given  me  one  day,  by  General  Kussell  A.  Alger, 
Secretary  of  War  in  President  McKinley's  cabi 
net  and  also  one  of  the  best  story-tellers  in  the 
Union.  I  have  always  been  as  curious  as  any 
other  civilian  regarding  the  feelings  of  a  soldier 
going  into  battle  and  while  he  is  fighting. 
General  Alger  told  me  one  day  that  he  could  not 
describe  it  better  than  by  repeating  a  little  story. 
He  said : 

During  a  religious  conference  at  Detroit  four 
ministers  were  my  guests.  They,  too,  had  won 
dered  much  about  the  sensations  of  the  soldier  in 
battle,  and  one  of  them  asked  me  if  I  did  not 
think  the  glory  in  taking  part  in  great  deeds,  was 
a  powerful  stimulus  causing  soldiers  to  emulate 
the  great  heroes  of  history.  I  replied  : 

"  Not  at  all." 

Then  they  wanted  to  know  what  was  the 
sentiment  that  took  possession  of  the  soldier 
when  he  was  actually  fighting.  I  replied  that 
three  words,  only  three,  were  frequently  uttered 
by  all  classes  of  soldiers  in  the  thick  of  a  fight, 
339 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

and  these  words  fully  indicate  the  soldier's  domi 
nant  sentiment. 

In  my  division  was  a  captain  who  was  noted 
for  religious  life  and  extreme  orthodoxy  in  belief 
and  conduct.  He  was  a  strong  Sabbatarian  and 
had  never  been  known  to  utter  an  oath,  or  even 
a  mild  word  of  the  "  cuss  "  variety.  I  regarded 
him  as  a  Miss  Nancy  sort  of  man  and  feared  he 
would  be  of  no  use  in  a  battle,  unless  a  quick  and 
successful  retreat  might  be  necessary.  But  one 
day,  while  a  big  battle  was  going  on,  I  saw  right 
in  the  thickest  of  the  fight,  my  mild  mannered 
Captain  waving  his  sword  and  urging  his  men  on 
in  such  splendid  style  that  I  could  not  help  ad 
miring  him  !  I  rode  up  to  compliment  him,  but 
when  I  got  near  him  his  language  made  me 
smile. 

"  Give  'em  hell !  Give  'em  hell,  boys ! "  he 
would  yell  after  each  volley — and  he  did  not 
vary  his  remarks.  I  couldn't  resist  saying, 

"Captain,  I'm  really  surprised  at  such  lan 
guage  from  you,  —  you,  our  most  religious 
soldier." 

"  Well,  General,"  he  replied,  "  I'm  saying  just 
what  I  feel,  and  just  what  I  mean.  Excuse  me, 
but — business  is  business."  Then  he  waved  his 
eword  again  and  repeated,  "  Give  'em  hell,  boys, 

give  'em  hell Give  'em  hell Give  'em 

hell,"  and  gentlemen,  those  three  words  express 
340 


SOME  SUNNY  SOLDIERS 

the  entire  sentiment  of  a  soldier  while  he  is  in 
battle !  A.nd,  religious  though  they  were,  those 
three  ministers  looked  as  if  they  felt  compelled  to 
believe  me. 

One  evening  I  stood  at  the  landing  of  the 
grand  staircase  of  General  Alger's  handsome 
residence  at  Detroit,  looking  down  on  a  great 
social  gathering  on  the  floor  below.  Great  men 
and  charming  women,  elegant  attires  and  ani 
mated  faces  combined  to  make  a  picture  that  I 
would  not  have  missed  for  anything,  but  some 
how  my  thoughts  persisted  in  running  in  a  con 
templative  groove,  so  I  was  not  astonished  when 
the  general  tapped  me  on  the  shoulder  and 
rallied  me  on  standing  apart  and  being  very 
quiet  and  serious.  I  replied,  there  were  times 
when  a  professional  funny  man  found  it  hard  to 
live  up  to  his  reputation  when  he  chanced  to  find 
himself  alone  and  in  a  reflective  mood.  He  not 
only  understood  me,  but  spoke  most  sympathet 
ically  of  the  necessary  fluctuations  of  a  mercurial 
temperament,  and  of  the  tendency  of  quicksilver 
to  fall  as  quickly  as  it  mounts. 

Most  truthfully  did  John  G.  Saxe,  the  humor 
ous  poet,  write,  "  It's  a  very  serious  thing  to  be  a 
funny  man."  Real  fun  must  be  spontaneous. 
The  hostess  who  pounces  upon  me  suddenly 
when  the  guests  begin  to  yawn  and  exclaims 
imploringly,  "  Oh,  Mr.  "Wilder !  Do  say  some- 
341 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STREET 

thing  funny  ! "  does  not  realize  that  she  sends  the 
mercury  down  with  a  rush. 

Several  times  I  have  had  the  pleasure  of  meet 
ing  General  Lew  Wallace,  the  distinguished 
soldier,  author  and  diplomat.  He  served  his 
country  gallantly  in  the  Mexican  War,  when  he 
was  but  twenty-one  years  of  age,  and  afterward 
did  inestimable  service  in  the  Civil  War  ;  he  has 
been  Governor  of  New  Mexico,  and  American 
minister  to  Turkey,  yet  it  is  as  the  author  of 
"  Ben  Hur  "  that  he  is  most  widely  known  and 
loved  by  his  own  country,  as  well  as  by  Christian 
people  of  all  nations,  for  his  book  has  been  trans 
lated  into  almost  every  European  tongue. 

When  I  was  in  New  Mexico  I  visited  the 
Spanish  Palace  at  Sante  Fe,  which  was  General 
Wallace's  residence  during  his  governorship. 
The  building  was  erected  in  1598,  long  before 
the  Pilgrim  Fathers  and  Captain  John  Smith 
ever  set  foot  on  the  Western  Hemisphere,  so  it 
is  one  of  the  show  places  of  the  American  Conti 
nent,  yet  the  greatest  interest  of  every  visitor  is 
the  room  in  which  "  Ben  Hur  "  was  written. 

Like  every  other  real  man  of  affairs,  General 
Wallace  has  a  large  sunny  side  to  his  nature,  and 
a  gift  for  story-telling.  I  have  listened  to  him 
with  huge  delight.  To  repeat  all  his  stories  good 
enough  to  print  would  crowd  everything  else 
out  of  my  book,  but  here  is  one  that  I  have 
342 


SOME  SUNNY  SOLDIEES 

often  recalled,  and  with  a  hearty  laugh  each 
time : 

In  Stamboul,  Turkey,  lived  a  well-to-do  native, 
named  Ismail  Hassan.  He  did  not  have  the 
imagination  of  Eider  Haggard  or  the  eloquence 
of  some  Americans  I  could  name,  but  he  had  a 
ready  oriental  wit  that  could  always  be  trusted 
to  get  him  out  of  a  tight  place.  A  neighbor 
called  on  him  one  day  and  wanted  to  borrow 
his  donkey.  Ismail  made  a  low  salaam  and 
replied : 

"Neighbor,  I  am  very  sorry,  but  my  boy 
started  on  the  donkey  an  hour  ago  for  Scutari. 
By  this  time  he  is  gaily  trotting  over  the  hills, 
far  from  the  sacred  precincts  of  Stamboul." 

Just  as  Ismail  finished  speaking  a  loud  bray 
was  heard  from  the  stable,  which  was  under  the 
same  roof  as  the  house.  The  neighbor  ex 
claimed  : 

"How  now,  friend  Ismail?  I  heard  your 
donkey  bray." 

Ismail  protested  that  the  neighbor's  ear  had 
been  deceived,  and  that  the  noise  was  not  a 
donkey's  bray.  But  the  donkey,  who  was  sup 
posed  to  be  trotting  toward  Scutari,  brayed  again, 
brayed  twice,  and  loudly,  so  the  neighbor  cried, 

"  Surely  that  is  your  donkey,  Ismail.  Allah 
be  praised,  I  can  now  borrow  him."  But  Ismail 
replied  angrily, 

343 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

"  Which  do  you  believe  is  lying,  the  donkey 
or  I?"  . 

The  neighbor  could  not  set  up  the  word  of  a 
donkey  against  that  of  Ismail  Hassan,  so  he  had 
to  depart  on  foot. 

Although  it  has  been  my  rare  luck  to  meet 
many  great  and  prominent  men,  I  am  frequently 
surprised  anew  that  my  first  impression  is  of 


"  Who  Is  Lying,  the  Donkey  or  I? " 

their  simplicity  of  manner  and  their  lack  of 
affectation. 

General  Nelson  A.  Miles,  until  recently  Gen 
eral-in-Chief  of  our  Army,  was  always  of  dis 
tinguished  appearance.  In  his  earlier  days  he 
was  known  among  the  ladies  in  army  circles 
as  "Beauty  Miles,"  and  his  photograph  was  in 
wild  demand  by  young  women  at  every  military 
344 


SOME  SUNNY  SOLDIEES 

post  in  the  west ;  yet  he  was  always  as  modest 
and  approachable  as  any  ordinary  mortal,  and  I 
am  sure  no  American  ever  was  more  grateful  for 
it  than  I,  for  I  never  outgrew  my  boyhood's  ad 
oration  for  soldiers. 

I  gratefully  remember  Miles  calling  on  me 
once  when  I  was  in  Washington.  I  ought  to 
have  been  overcome  by  the  honor,  which  cer 
tainly  it  was,  but  he  disarmed  embarrassment 
by  "droppin'  in"  informally,  head  of  the  army 
though  he  was,  in  ordinary  civilian  costume  and 
with  an  old  soft  hat  on  his  head.  On  another 
occasion,  when  he  chanced  to  be  in  New  York, 
he  sa\v  me  standing  in  front  of  "  The  Alpine," 
where  I  lived  many  years,  stopped  and  chatted 
with  me  for  a  full  half  hour.  As  we  were  on 
Broadway,  scores  of  men  passed  us  every  minute, 
and  it  was  plain  to  see  that  many  of  them  knew 
who  he  was  and  gazed  at  him  respectfully  and 
admiringly,  yet  no  crowd  collected  and  no  one 
"  rung  in  "  ;  he  was  as  little  disturbed  as  if  we  had 
been  in  the  middle  of  a  ten  acre  lot.  I  was  so 
delighted  with  the  incident,  with  his  manner  and 
that  of  the  people,  that  I  asked  him  in  what 
other  country  of  the  world  the  head  of  the 
army  could  be  so  unconventional  and  demo 
cratic. 

"  Well,  Marsh,"  he  replied,  with  a  big  smile  of 
content,  "  that's  the  beauty  of  this  country  of 
345 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

ours — a  man   doesn't   have  to  be  anything  but 
himself,  or  more  than  he  wishes  to  be." 

General  Miles  is  loaded  to  the  muzzle  with 
good  stories ;  he  has  so  many  that  he  tells  them 
in  as  few  words  as  possible,  so  as  to  have  time  to 
tell  a  lot  of  them.  Here  are  some  that  he  gave 
me  one  day  in  quick  succession. 

One  Irishman  bet  another  that  he  could 
drink  a  bottle  of  whiskey  and  not  stagger. 
The  other  Irishman  covered  the  bet,  and  the 
first  one  won,  by  going  to  bed  and  drinking 
the  whiskey  there. 

A  darky  approached  a  fish  stand  kept  by 
another  darky  and  asked : 

"  Got  any  fresh  fish  ?  " 

"'Cose  I  has.  What  you  tink  I'ze  sellin'? 
Shoes?" 

"  Oh,  I  knows  you's  sellin'  fish,  but  is  dey 
fresh  ?  " 

"'Cose  dey's  fresh.  Hyah! — quit  smellin'  o' 
dem  fish ! " 

"  I  ain't  smellin'  'em." 

"  What  you  doin',  den  ?  " 

"  I'ze  jus'  whisperin'  to  'em  :  dat's  all." 

"  An'  what  you  whisperin'  to  dem  fish  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I'ze  jus'  askin'  'em  how's  all  dey're  re 
lations  dat  dey  lef  in  de  ocean." 

"  An'  what  dey  say  ?  " 
346 


SOME  SUNNY  SOLDIEES 

"  Dey  say  it's  so  long  since  dey  seen  'em  dat 
dey  forgits." 

An  Irishman  said  :  "  Last  night  at  two  o'clock 
in  the  marnin'  whin  I  was  walkin'  up  and  down 
the  flure  wid  me  bare  feet  on  the  oil-cloth  wid  a 
cry  in'  child  on  aich  arm,  I  cuddent  help  remern- 
berin'  that  me  father  wanted  me  to  be  a  priest. 
But  I  thought  I  knew  better  than  he  did  I  " 


347 


XXVII 

SOME  FIRST  EXPERIENCES 

When  I  was  a  Boy. — One  Christmas  Frolic. — How  I  Got  on  One 
Theatre's  Free  List. — My  First  Experience  as  a  Manager. — 
Strange  Sequel  of  a  Modest  Business  Effort. — My  First 
Cigar  and  How  It  Undid  Me.— The  Only  "  Drink  "  I  Ever 
Took. — My  First  Horse  in  Central  Park. — I  Volunteer  as  a 
Filer  in  School  Band,  with  Sad  Kesults  to  All  Concerned. 

SENATOR  JONES  of  Nevada,  whose  stories 
have  greater  influence  than  some  other 
Senator's  speeches,  tells  of  a  professional 
"  repeater  "  who  on  election  day  voted  early  and 
late  and  often  for  the  candidate  of  the  party 
which  had  employed  him,  but  who,  just  before 
the  polls  closed,  begged  permission  to  vote  once 
the  other  ticket,  which  was  that  of  his  own 
party.  With  similar  spirit  I,  who  have  been  fill 
ing  a  book  with  mention  of  other  people,  want 
to  record  a  few  of  my  occasional  doings.  If 
some  of  these  seem  insignificant,  I  can  only  ex 
plain,  in  Shakespeare's  words,  "  A  poor  thing,  but 
mine  own." 

My  memory  goes  back  to  the  day  I  was  bap 
tized,  but  the  first  Christmas  I  can  recall — and 
Christmas  is  the  small  boy's  largest  day,  dawned 
when  I  was  seven  years  old.     My  father  and  I 
348 


SOME  FIRST  EXPERIENCES 

had  lived  together  as  bachelors,  so  two  aunts 
were  the  only  mothers  I  ever  knew.  They  lived 
at  Wolcott,  New  York ;  together  they  owned  a 
full  dozen  of  children,  and  every  boy  and  girl 
was  healthy  and  full  of  fun.  I  always  spent 
Christmas  with  them,  and  the  first  of  these  holi 
days  I  recall  is  still  vivid  in  my  mind,  for  I  upset 
the  whole  town.  My  cousins  and  I  exhausted 
our  collective  repertoires  of  mischief  on  the  day 
before  Christmas;  children  are  usually  "too 
serious."  Suddenly  I  conceived  the  idea  of  dis 
guising  myself  and  discovering  how  it  would  feel 
to  be  somebody  else. 

So- 1  blacked  my  face  and  in  other  ways  hid 
my  identity  until  even  the  family  dog  failed  to 
recognize  me.  Then  I  practiced  on  several  neigh 
bors,  not  one  of  whom  succeeded  in  seeing  more 
than  skin-deep.  Thus  encouraged,  I  called  on  a 
young  lady  of  whom  I  was  very  fond — and  let 
me  remind  my  readers  that  a  seven-year  old  boy's 
adoration  is  more  whole-hearted,  unselfish  and 
intense  than  that  of  chaps  who  are  from  ten  to 
twenty  years  older. 

"Well,  I  knocked  at  her  door,  after  dark,  intend 
ing  to  ask  for  something  to  eat.  She  herself 
opened  the  door,  holding  a  lamp  aloft,  to  see  who 
the  caller  might  be.  Forgetting  my  disguise,  I 
sprang  toward  her,  after  the  manner  of  seven- 
year  old  lovers.  She  shrieked,  dropped  the  lamp 
349 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STREET 

— which  fortunately  went  out,  and  fled  down 
several  steps  to  the  kitchen.  Her  cry  of  alarm 
startled  a  large  bulldog,  whose  existence  I  had 
forgotten,  but  whose  voice  I  recognized  as  he  said 
distinctly,  in  dog  lingo,  "  I'm  after  you."  I  took 
to  my  heels  and  ran  homeward ;  he  was  handi- 


"  Struck  it  with  the  impact  of  a  cartload  of  rooks." 

capped  by  a  door  that  had  to  be  opened  for  him 
but  I  had  barely  got  within  my  room  door  when 
he  struck  it  with  the  impact  of  a  cart  load  of 
rocks  and  a  roar  which  I  can  recall  whenever  I 
least  want  to. 

In  my  fright  I  confessed  all  and  was  sent  to 
350 


SOME  FIEST  EXPEKIENCES 

bed  in  disgrace.  But  I  remained  awake,  for  it 
was  Christmas  eve,  and  I  had  resolved  to  learn 
whether  Santa  Glaus  was  the  real  thing.  I  got 
up  at  four  o'clock,  went  down-stairs,  but  not  a 
thing  did  I  find.  So  I  went  back  to  bed,  over, 
slept,  missed  the  prologue,  and  the  others  had  the 
laugh  on  me.  But  I  was  round  in  time  for  the 
distribution  of  gifts,  and  as  it  was  a  case  of 
twelve  to  one,  all  the  cousins  giving  me  presents, 
I  felt  that  but  for  the  dog  incident  I  had  got  even 
with  this  first  Christmas  I  can  recall. 

While  I  was  a  schoolboy  at  Kochester  I  was 
very  fond  of  the  theatre  and  used  to  "  take  in  " 
every  show  that  came  to  town.  Generally  this 
cost  me  nothing,  although  I  was  not  on  the  man 
ager's  complimentary  list.  I  would  assist  Janitor 
William  Hallo  way  light  up  old  Corinthian  Hall, 
where  almost  all  attractions  appeared  ;  then  after 
making  a  pretense  of  going  home,  I  would  con 
ceal  myself  in  the  darkest  part  of  the  house  I 
could  find.  This  was  easy  to  do,  for  I  was  very 
short ;  when  the  performance  was  about  to  begin 
I  would  bob  up  serenely,  and  no  one  would  ques 
tion  me. 

My  first  public  appearance  on  any  stage  was 
back  of  our  old  house  on  North  Fitzhugh  Street, 
in  a  barn  which  my  father  never  used.  So  some 
of  my  schoolmates  and  I  turned  the  loft  into  a 
theatre.  We  rigged  a  stage  with  scenery  and  ar- 
351 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STREET 

ranged  for  the  lighting  by  making  an  opening  in 
the  roof.  Pins  were  the  only  kind  of  currency 
accepted  at  the  box-office,  and  I  "in  my  time 
played  many  parts  " ;  I  would  sell  tickets  at  the 
lower  door,  keep  children  waiting  to  make  them 
believe  a  great  crowd  was  up-stairs,  then  I  would 
hurry  to  the  upper  door,  take  the  tickets  and  seat 
the  holders  wherever  they  would  see  best,  if  girls, 
where  they  would  look  best.  My  duties  did  not 
end  here,  for  I  was  stage  manager  and  appeared 
at  every  performance  in  various  characters,  so  I 
honestly  believe  the  audience  got  its  money's 
worth. 

My  first  business  venture  was  in  the  peddling 
line  ;  most  boys  have  longings  in  that  direction, 
but  I  was  one  of  the  few  that  persisted  in  spite 
of  all  opposition  at  home  and  elsewhere.  I  went 
from  house  to  house  with  a  basket  of  things 
which  I  was  sure  would  be  desired  by  housekeep 
ers.  The  results  were  not  as  satisfactory  as  I  had 
expected,  housekeepers  didn't  really  know  how 
much  they  needed  the  articles  I  displayed  and 
explained,  yet  I  got  some  lessons  that  have  made 
me  a  lifelong  sympathizer  with  venders,  book 
agents,  canvassers,  etc.,  for  I  recall  distinctly  the 
sensation  of  having  doors  closed  in  my  face  with 
some  such  remark  as  "  Oh,  get  out  of  here ;  we 
don't  want  any." 

On  one  occasion  I  rang  the  bell  of  a  house  on 
352 


SOME  FIEST  EXPERIENCES 

Thirty-fourth  Street,  near  Park  Avenue,  New 
York.  When  the  maid  opened  the  door  two 
lovely  little  girls  peeped  from  the  fold  of  her 
dress  and  exchanged  wondering  remarks  about 
"the  funny  little  man."  I  offered  my  wares; 
the  maid  said  she  would  see  the  mistress.  The 
little  girls  remained,  we  began  to  "  make  friends  " 
and  had  reached  the  degree  of  confidence  at 
which  names  and  ages  are  compared.  The  maid 
returned  to  say  that  the  mistress  did  not  care  to 
buy,  but  was  sorry  for  me  and  had  sent  me  a 
nickel.  Being  proud  as  well  as  poor,  my  impulse 
was  to  refuse  the  coin,  but  I  put  it  in  my  pocket, 
saying  I  would  keep  it  for  luck  (which  it  seemed 
to  bring  me).  Years  afterward  at  a  Lambs'  Club 
dinner  a  prominent  judge  said  to  me,  "Mr. 
Wilder,  I  want  you  to  meet  my  wife  and  daugh 
ters.  Will  you  dine  with  us  next  Wednesday 
evening  ?  " 

I  accepted,  but  when  I  climbed  the  steps  of  the 
house  something  compelled  my  memory  to  run 
backward  and  when  I  entered  the  drawing-room 
and  was  presented  to  the  wife  and  charming 
daughters  of  my  host  it  became  clear  to  me  that 
these  were  the  kind-hearted  people  of  long  ago — 
the  two  little  girls  who  had  made  friends  with 
"  the  funny  little  man,"  and  the  good  lady  who 
was  sorry  for  me  and  sent  me  a  nickel. 

I  am  not  a  smoker,  but  I  did  try  a  cigar  once, 
353 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STEEET 

and  this  first  cigar  is  one  of  my  lifelong  memo 
ries.  I  encountered  this  cigar  at  a  dinner  given 
at  the  Hotel  Astoria  by  the  Aborigines  Club. 
The  decorations  were  appropriate  in  the  extreme, 
the  walls  being  hung  with  Indian  blankets,  war 
bonnets,  bows  and  arrows  and  many  other  re 
minders  of  the  noble  red  man.  The  central  or 
nament  of  the  large  round  table  was  a  small  In 
dian  tepee,  or  tent,  in  which  I,  in  the  full  regalia 
of  an  Indian  brave,  was  stored  before  the  guests 
arrived.  At  a  signal  given  by  Col.  Tom  Ochil. 
tree,  after  the  club  and  its  guests  were  seated,  I 
lighted  a  cigar ;  it  was  necessary  for  artistic  veri 
similitude  that  smoke  could  issue  from  the  top  of 
the  tepee,  and  it  would  not  be  proper  at  the  be 
ginning  of  a  dinner,  for  the  smoke  to  be  from 
anything  not  fra.grant.  Well,  I  never  hesitated 
to  try  anything  new,  so  the  smoke  went  up,  but 
soon  afterward  I  went  down — and  out.  The  tepee 
began  to  dance;  I  felt  smothered,  and  without 
waiting  for  the  signal  for  my  formal  and  stately 
appearance  I  threw  open  the  flap,  staggered  about 
the  table  and  saw  the  forty  diners  multiply  into 
a  hundred  and  fifty,  all  of  whom  engaged  in  er 
ratic  and  fantastic  gyrations.  General  Miles  who 
was  one  of  the  guests,  caught  me  as  I  was  about 
to  fall  from  the  table.  I  was  carried  to  another 
room  and  put  to  bed  in  a  dejected  state  of  mind 
and  with  a  wet  towel  about  my  head.  It  was 
354 


literally  a  case  of  "  Lo,  the  poor  Indian."  Such 
is  the  history  of  my  first,  and — heaven  help  me — 
my  last  cigar. 

Although  a  total  abstainer  from  spirituous 
liquors— for  I  can  get  as  lively  on  cold  water  as 
any  other  man  can  on  whiskey,  I  have  to  my 
credit  or  discredit,  one  single  "  drink."  It  was 
on  a  railway  train,  going  from  Liverpool  to  Lon- 


"  I  threw  open  the  flap  and  staggered  about  the  table." 

don,  that  I  was  tempted ;  unlike  Adam  and  many 
drunkards,  I  cannot  say  "the  woman  tempted 
me,"  for  it  was  a  party  of  good  fellows  with 
whom  I  was  traveling.  As  is  generally  known, 
European  sleeping  cars  are  divided  into  compart 
ments — one  for  men  and  the  other  for  women. 
Toward  bedtime  a  flask  of  something  stronger 
than  water  was  passed — they  called  it  "  a  night 
cap  ";  all  but  I  drank  from  it;  I  declined  when 
invited,  but  when  some  one  "  dared  "  me  to  take 
355 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STBEET 

a  drink  it  was  too  much  for  my  pride,  so  I  yielded. 
There  is  a  story  of  an  Irishman  who  said  to 
another, 

"  Have  a  drink,  Moike  ?  " 

"  No,  Oi've  just  had  wan." 

"  Well,  have  another.  Ye  can't  fly  wid  wan 
wing." 

I  believed  this  assertion,  for  I  was  so  exhausted 
by  what  I  had  swallowed  that  I  soon  made  fly 
ing  leaps  from  one  berth  to  another  and  in  other 
ways  so  conducted  myself  as  to  elicit  shouts  of 
laughter  from  the  other  men ;  our  party  became 
so  noisy  that  the  ladies  in  the  next  compartment 
got  into  a  state  of  extreme  indignation,  rapped 
angrily  on  the  wall,  and  sent  the  guard  to  us 
with  frenzied  appeals  for  silence.  The  effect  of 
my  physical  condition  was  not  so  disastrous  as 
that  of  my  first  cigar,  but  I  caused  as  much  dis 
turbance  as  a  man  with  a  "  load  "  which  he  should 
have  made  two  trips  for,  and  I  was  so  grateful 
that  matters  were  no  worse  that  I  resolved  that 
my  first  drink  should  also  be  my  last. 

My  first  horse  was  another  man's.  On  the  site 
of  Hammerstein's  Theatre  of  Varieties  used  to 
be  a  stable,  whose  proprietor  was  so  kind  to  me, 
when  I  was  a  New  York  schoolboy,  that  I  used 
to  spend  much  of  my  spare  time  there.  He 
owned  a  little  black  mare  which  he  allowed  me 
to  ride  in  Central  Park.  Her  age  and  pedigree 
356 


SOME  FIEST  EXPERIENCES 

were  unknown ;  some  men  said  she  had  been  in 
the  Civil  War;  others  dated  her  back  to  the 
Mexican  War ;  she  ought  to  have  been  in  both 
for  she  was  full  of  fighting  blood,  indicated  by 
defiant  waves  of  a  little  flag-like  tail.  I  could 
not  possibly  fall  off,  for  her  back  sloped  into  a 
natural  cradle ;  her  hips  and  shoulders  would 
have  made  fine  vantage  points  for  wireless  teleg 
raphy.  Her  manner  was  distinguished  by  se 
vere  dignity,  and  her  walk  was  slow  and  stately ; 
nothing  could  urge  her  out  of  it,  but  occasionally 
of  her  own  free  will  she  would  break  into  a  de 
corous  trot  for  two  or  three  minutes.  She  was  a 
capital  illustration  of  Milton's  idea  of  the  female 
will  :— 

"  When  she  will,  she  will,  you  may  depend  on't : 
And  when  she  won't  she  won't,  and  there's  the  end  on't." 

When    she  thought  she   had   gone  far  enough 
she    would    calmly  disregard    any    opinion    I 
might  have  on  the  subject  and  return  to  the 
stable.     I  was  much  like  the  Irishman  who  drove 
a  mule  up  and  down  a  street,  backward  and  for 
ward,  until  a  friend  asked : 
"  I  say,  Moike,  where  are  ye  goin'  ?  " 
"  How  should  I  know  ?    Ask  the  mule." 
I  must  have  been  the  cause  of  much  amuse 
ment  to  beholders  as  I  nestled  in  the  depression 
367 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE  OF  THE  STREET 

of  that  animal's  back.  A  facetious  Park  police 
man  once  hailed  me  with, 

"  Say,  young  fellow  ?  Why  don't  you  get  off 
and  get  inside  ?  " 

My  first  appearance  as  a  musician  was  while  I 
was  in  a  primary  school  "annex"  in  the  base 
ment  of  a  church  which  stood  where  the  New 
Amsterdam  Theatre  now  is.  The  teachers  were 
so  indulgent  to  me  that  I  gave  loose  rein  to  my 
inclination  toward  practical  joking,  and  I  became 
an  element  of  mischief  which  kept  that  school  in 
a  wild  but  constant  ferment.  One  of  the  teachers 
planned  a  juvenile  fife-and-drum  corps  and  re 
quested  all  boys  who  could  perform  on  either  in 
strument  to  step  forward.  I  improved  the  oppor 
tunity  to  join  the  fifers,  although  I  could  not  play 
a  note.  In  time  we  made  a  creditable  band ;  I 
stood  next  a  boy  who  played  well,  and  followed 
his  motions  industrially,  though  "  faking  "  all  the 
while.  This  went  on  a  long  time,  to  the  huge 
delight  of  the  boys  who  were  in  the  secret ;  the 
teacher  did  not  suspect  me. 

But  the  end  came  one  day,  in  the  presence  of 
distinguished  visitors.  The  fifers  were  few ;  the 
one  I  had  imitated  had  remained  at  home,  so  I 
shook  in  my  shoes  when  the  corps  was  called  on 
for  music.  The  teacher,  who  was  at  the  piano, 
missed  the  customary  volume  of  sound,  and 
looked  searchingly  at  me.  When  she  told  me  to 
368 


SOME  FIRST  EXPERIENCES 

stand  beside  her  I  knew  my  doom  was  sealed  ;  I 
had  never  professed  to  be  a  soloist  anyhow. 
But  before  I  became  officially  dead  I  would  have 
some  more  fun,  and  play  the  joke  to  the  end. 
My  short  stature  brought  my  instrument  about 
to  the  level  of  the  teacher's  ear,  from  which 
position  I  let  off  at  intervals  a  piercing  blast 
which  made  that  poor  woman  jump  as  if  a  wasp 
had  stung  her.  I  knew  what  was  coming,  after 
the  visitors  went,  so  beside  having  fun  I  was  get 
ting  my  revenge  in  advance.  It  is  said  that  when 
Nemesis  catches  up  with  a  man  he  feels  her  hand 
on  his  shoulder,  but  it  was  not  on  my  shoulder 
that  the  hand  of  fate,  represented  by  that  teacher, 
was  felt,  for  those  were  the  good  old  days  of 
corporal  punishment  in  the  public  schools — the 
days  when  an  offended  teacher  could  flog  a  pupil 
as  long  as  her  strength  lasted. 

If  these  recollections  do  not  please,  at  least  I 
am  at  a  safe  distance,  like  the  man  who  sent  a 
poem  in  to  Eugene  Field,  entitled,  "  Why  Do  I 
Live  ?  "  Field  replied,  "  Because  you  sent  your 
poem  by  mail." 


369 


